Loki: Lover of Fidelity
by Refictionista
Summary: Sydney released the breath she was holding and gracelessly dropped her car keys. As she took a tentative step backwards, Agent Fury grabbed her arm. His expression was still somewhat pleasant, but his features were now firm, his eyes unrelenting. The broad shouldered Agent Dugan brought his hand up to his face and spoke into his wrist, "We have her."
1. Prologue

****Author's Note****

**Nothing from the Marvel universe is mine. The fact that this story is on this site obviously implies that I am a ****_fan_**** writing ****_fanfiction_****. Because if I did own them, then I would be on my own private yacht in the Mediterranean sipping sangria from a goblet made of diamonds. The OC, Sydney, is my creation.**

**Mature content, language and themes in later chapters. Beware of spoilers.  
**

****~ Refictionista, June 28, 2014**  
**

* * *

§ **Prologue** §

* * *

Sydney was driving down I-25, on what she considered the beautiful stretch of the highway between Denver and Colorado Springs, when her mobile phone started buzzing from the passenger seat, interrupting her private jam session with Alanis Morissette's latest album. The phone's annoying tone ceased after just one ring.

Smiling knowingly, she pulled over to the road's shoulder and lowered the car stereo's volume. Sydney then reached for her Motorola StarTAC and flipped the phone open, whistling at the clam shell style device with the sound effect of a Star Trek communicator. She leaned back and started dialing.

"Bergström to Sato. Come in, Sato."

Sato Eriko started giggling. "You're such a dork. What'cha doing?"

"Right now? I'm pulled over in the middle of nowhere, returning your call and staring out the window looking at some goats on a nearby hill."

"Goats?"

"Yeah, goats. Four legged animals that look like sheep but have adorable beards and look somewhat amused." Sydney couldn't help getting sidetracked with sharing Eriko's ever light-hearted attitude, and the little goats were cute. "I'm heading down to my Aunt Blanche's house for a book club meeting."

"Cool beans." Eriko seemed to stretch those two words out and then became taciturn. Sydney could tell her best friend and roommate was hesitant to say something.

"Is everything okay?"

"Sort of... I don't know," she took a deep breath. "Something kinda weird just happened like two minutes ago." Sydney could hear Eriko fiddling with a window's mini-blinds in the background. "No. Make that officially weird. Those guys are now just sitting there, watching the house from a car across the street."

"Eriko, I have no idea... Wait, what? Guys are watching the house? Our house?"

"Yeah. I was getting ready for work, and these two guys in suits with badges knocked on the door and started asking questions about you. Oh, and they wanted to find you, as in like yesterday. Now, they are sitting in what looks like a rental car across the street. Hmm, I wonder if they can see me spying on them spying on me."

Sydney was even more bewildered. Confusion itself was not an usual occurrence with her bubbly friend, but currently it was a definite hindrance. "Badges? What agency? Why were they looking for me?"

"I don't remember." Eriko became indignant when she heard Sydney's huff. "No, that isn't me being an airhead. It was like this really, really long government agency name. You wouldn't have remembered it either, little miss smarty pants." She exhaled audibly, "Well, maybe you would have being freaky brain smart and all. Anyway, they wouldn't tell me why they were looking for you, just that it was, and I quote, 'essential' that they find you as soon as possible."

Sydney didn't retort. Eriko wouldn't have snapped at her if she wasn't stressed out. She unlatched her seat belt and leaned over to get her book from the back seat. "Eriko, I am sure everything is okay. Don't worry, I'll figure it out when I get to my aunt's condo. Did they leave a business card or anything?"

"No, a card would have had that agency name on it." She could tell Eriko was trying not to sound agitated. "Listen, I'm going to call in sick at work because..." Eriko never finished her sentence, because suddenly the connection cut out at the same time that the car's engine died. Sydney stopped reaching into the back seat and turned forward to stare at the blank cell phone screen and then her unlit dashboard. The vehicle was unnaturally quiet without her friend's voice and the stereo playing.

She glanced at the car charger, which she was sure that she plugged in over thirty minutes ago._ No, it must have been loose and was then so low on power that, when the car died, it did_, she reasoned snapping the phone shut. _That really doesn't make sense, but what else could have happened?_ Sydney brushed aside the worrying thought to deal with her current dilemma. She tried to start the car back up, but nothing happened. She turned off the radio and the AC, checked to make sure that the lights weren't on and tried the key again. Still nothing. _Bugger_, she cursed silently to herself. _Well, first things first_. Sighing, Sydney got out of the car to get the cables. Hopefully, a Good Samaritan would stop soon and give her battery a jump.

Before she even reached the trunk, she heard a helicopter. Looking around, she saw one as it was landing in the field up ahead. The goats on the hill next to her stopped munching on the grass and were staring at it as well.

It was black and sleek looking, with perhaps what was a stylized eagle painted on the side. The whooshing blades never slowed down as a door on the side opened. Two men climbed out and one waved at Sydney, who stood frozen with the key in her hand poised over the trunk. She supposed they didn't seem too menacing as they started half jogging over to her. If anything, she was curious.

They hopped over the field's fence with relative ease and then walked over more placidly. The taller of the two who had waved at her earlier was a black man with kind looking eyes under short dark curls, he smiled. "Miss Bergström?" Sydney couldn't decide what to say. "Miss Sydney Gina Bergström of Englewood, Colorado? Ma'am, I'm Agent Nick Fury, and this here is my partner, Agent Tim Dugan. We realize you find this unorthodox, but we would appreciate it if you came with us."

"Please, we aren't here to hurt you." As he reached out a hand invitingly, she noticed the gun holstered at his side under his dark leather jacket. Alanis Morrissette's voice popped back in her head. _Finally, something that could actually be considered ironic_, she thought.

Sydney released the breath she was holding and gracelessly dropped her keys. As she took a tentative step backwards, Agent Fury grabbed her arm. His expression was still somewhat pleasant, but his features were now firm, his eyes unrelenting. The broad shouldered Agent Dugan brought his hand up to his face and then spoke into his wrist, "We have her."


	2. Nothing burns like the cold

****Author's Note****

**Great Jumping Jehoshaphat... I hate writing summaries. 385 characters to explain a story that still only exists as a basic outline. I apologize if you've read it more than once and are wondering why I keep changing the story's description. I must have changed it twelve times already, yet I'm still not satisfied. I'd ask for help, but seeing as how this here is the first actual chapter makes such a request from the tens of readers out there quite premature.  
**

**Sections entirely in _italics_ denote flashbacks. Numbers in [brackets] denote footnotes, which you can find at the bottom of this chapter. Nothing from the Marvel universe is mine.**

****~ Refictionista**, July 1, 2014  
**

* * *

§ **Chapter I **§  
nothing burns like the cold

* * *

"Margaret!"

When no one answered, he charged out of his office like an angry bear emerging from its den. "You there," Director Fury did nothing to hide his impatience with the young agent unlucky enough to be at the first station he saw entering the bridge deck. "Get Hill on the line!"

After a terse moment, the woman looked back up at him, "Sir, the communications array is still down at the New York campus."

"Lieutenant, I was told those repairs would be finished two hours ago. What exactly are our people at that facility doing down there?"

"It appears that they are behind schedule, sir."

"Oh really, you don't say?" When she started to take a breath to respond, he held up a hand, "The next words that come out of your mouth better make me believe that you are smarter than I am."

Director Fury narrowed his one eye as she stoically stared back at him, wisely not saying a word. He nodded and turned to head up the stairs. Halting outside of the conference room, he gripped the railing as he realized,_ there shouldn't be a debriefing yet_. He couldn't reach Hill, but that didn't concern him. He knew that he could trust her to keep on top of things without him. However, it seemed that his Avengers Initiative had disappeared. He had no idea where they were. _Hadn't Stark mentioned something about getting some shawarmas before they had all gone radio silent? Ridiculous. Who the hell drops everything after a battle to try out some local Mediterranean dive?_

_Shwarmas... gyros... his Avengers had gone to eat gyros!_[1] For the first time since Fury had ignored the council's decision to launch a missile at Manhattan, he actually smiled. He lightly smacked a fist on the metal railing; maybe his Avengers had earned a leave of absence.

He knew he was going to be in a much better mood when he contacted that stupid-ass World Security Council this time. He walked back into his office, much more sedately than he had exited it.

* * *

Maria Hill stretched and rolled her neck slowly from side to side. The facilities at the New York campus had been damaged, though not as much as she initially feared when she had first arrived. Some of the research labs and personnel would need to be relocated to another campus, at least temporarily. Deciding who and where was a decision further down on her list of priorities. She was exhausted, but knew that there was no time for rest. Some of these projects needed immediate attention, who knew what might be lost if they didn't act quickly. A few projects could be temporarily suspended, but the others... _so much to do_.

She reviewed the list of the injured. Thankfully no casualties, and hopefully there wouldn't be any. The severely wounded were all listed as critical, but stabilized.

_Fury might be pleased to hear that._

She snapped her head up, suddenly alert again. "Has Director Fury made contact since the battle ended?" She pushed the tablet back to the engineer, grabbing the next one he was holding.

"No ma'am. They're still trying to fix communications."

"Notify me the moment you think your team can get through to the helicarrier." She paused scrolling through the new tablet, "Kreah, I told you that already, didn't I?" He nodded. _Damn it_, she needed more coffee. "Tell you what... Inform the repair crew that if they can't get me a link within the next fifteen minutes, then I need an alternative way to contact the Director."

"Yes, ma'am."

She scanned the next report. "The sub-levels in section D are listed as structurally sound but severely damaged. Does any of this include our long term storage?"

Bruno Kreah looked over the schematics and preliminary engineering analysis. "Yes," he replied. "I want to take a look myself, but the only thing I'm concerned about right now is the cryogenic bays. Obviously, the power levels are fluctuating, but I think that the structural damage affected the lines to our backup generator is even more troubling. I already have a team assigned to that."

"Cryogenics... Yes, I see it here." She skimmed the list, _oh wait... that is troubling indeed_. "Let your team know that once everything is stabilized, prepare to transfer any level nine cargo to the Guest House. I said prepare. Make it clear that I don't intend to move anything there unless we are in danger of losing the cargo and nothing is moved without the Director's or my direct approval."

Kreah nodded and walked away, and then another S.H.E.I.L.D agent came forward with a new stack of tablets and probably a dozen fresh urgent questions. After a few minutes, Kreah came back. He mimed a phone and pointed to the surface. Maria frowned and pinched her nose, then shook it off and headed up the stairs with the engineer. Maybe they would pass a coffee pot on the way up; she wouldn't even mind if she had to drink it cold.

* * *

§

* * *

_The dark metal hyperbaric chamber hummed and pulsed, sending waves of evanescencing liquid nitrogen throughout the floor around it. Blanche Bergström swore she could feel the cold two stories above on the observation catwalk. She gripped the handrails so hard that her white knuckles started to redden, and she once again fought to hold back the tears that had periodically threatened to fall ever since she first looked down below._

_Controlling herself was not getting easier. She needed to leave this place and soon. She turned her head and narrowed her eyes at the man next to her, hissing under her breath to get his attention, and was met with mild annoyance. _

_"I'm done here," Blanche said, returning the scowl. "If you are not going to let me get any closer, then there is no reason for us to stay."_

_He said nothing, gesturing with his free hand towards the egress. Blanche briefly entertained the fantasy of 'accidentally' elbowing the sling holding his injured arm as she walked passed him. The longer he was in her presence, the greater the damages she imagined upon him.  
_

_On the other side of the door, she pulled herself up to her full height and faced him again. "Tell me the truth, Nicholas. Why did you ask my niece? Was it to punish me after I said no?"_

_He failed to have the decency to look shocked or affronted. The intense glare he gave her was not hindered from the bandages covering the left side of his face. He could accomplish with one eye what most men couldn't do with two._

_"We needed someone with your skills..."_

_"No, you needed nothing," she snapped. "You wanted to know what it was. You wanted to know how you could use it. Do not mistake greed for need. That knowledge and power was never within your rights, and that is why I said no. Had I any idea you could be so reckless, so arrogant, so..."  
_

_"If I want your opinion, then I'll ask for it." He turned and walked down the hallway. "__You're right, we're done__," he decreed over his shoulder, dismissing her._

_"___Nicholas_, you asshole! She was untested! Not even twenty years old, by goddess. She..." He rounded a corner, seemingly without hearing her outburst. Something in Blanche finally snapped. She clenched her fists, closed her eyes and started muttering viciously under her breath._

_Less than a moment later, a uniformed guard appeared next to her. "Ma'am, I'm here to escort you off the campus."_

_"Of course," Blanche opened her eyes. She stood up straight again, relaxed her hands and gave the stern looking man her sweetest possible smile. "Young man, please be a dear for an old woman and tell Agent Fury that when the rest of his singed hair falls off of that prick-shaped head, none of it is_ ever _coming back."_

* * *

_At home later that day, Blanche distractedly dropped her purse by the front door. She took off her coat and left it crumpled in the hallway as she walked towards a small sitting room. Reaching the bookcase, she knocked the contents of a shelf off onto the floor. A delicate glass bookend with a marble base shattered on the hardwood, but she took no notice. She put the palm of her hand on the back of the bookcase and began to whisper._

_ Water, is taught by thirst.  
Land - by the Oceans passed.  
Transport - by throe -  
Peace - by its battles told -  
Love, by Memorial Mold -  
Birds, by the Snow._[2]

_ She pushed her hand and arm through the bookcase... most of her upper arm disappeared into the wood and wall behind it. Her face narrowed in concentration as she reached for something in the pocket dimension.  
_

_When she pulled her arm out, she held a worn paperback, _The Complete Works of Emily Dickenson_, in her hand._

_"Arată adevărul,"_[3] _she commanded, closing her eyes and kissing the book's spine_.

_The cover started to shimmer like a heavy mist, and Dickenson's daguerreotype dissolved. The entire book seemed to flow, yet with movement that wasn't going anywhere. Finally, the shimmering settled and she held a grimoire. It was a beautiful book, not bound in leather, but in iridescent fish scales. Blanche put the book on the coffee table, and began reading. Her body was near exhaustion, but she was driven by determination. She knew what she needed could be found in her manual of magic. She would not fail._

_She read all night, never stopping, even when the first pink rays of the sunrise fell through the window._

_It was a day later and in the sanctuary of her small bedroom when Blanche finally gave in to the crying she had fought against for so very long. Hot salty tears fell over both sides of her face. Feeling much older than her sixty-two years, she sat down at her vanity, resting her head on her forearms. She had known the cost would be high, but now she also knew that the implications would hurt not only her... so many others would be affected. How could she end this without causing more suffering? It was quite some time before she raised her wet face to look at the mirror.  
_

_"If I do it... if I... if I save her, then she will be all alone," she whispered to her reflection. She coughed; her voice was hoarse from sobbing and lack of sleep.  
_

_"Not if we are very clever," the reflection whispered back softly, her dry and gentle face smiling back at Blanche sympathetically from the other side of the mirror.  
_

* * *

§

* * *

[1] **Did anyone else notice this pun from the movie? A shwarma is an Arab sandwich/wrap. The Greek equivalent of a shwarma is called gyro, which is pronounced [jeer-oh]... as in _hero_. ;-)**

[2] **_Water, is taught by thirst_ is a poem by Emily Dickinson, an American poet from the 19th century. To me, the poem's meaning/theme is that one does not realize what he or she has until it is lost. The allusions and figurative language were appropriate for the scene, or perhaps I wrote this scene for the poem ;-)  
**

[3]** _Arată adevărul_ is Romanian (according to Google Translate) for _show the truth_. Yes, I realize that the Romanian language is not the same as the Romani language, but please forgive me as I was hindered by a lack of reliable sources. Since this is fanfiction, we shall all be content with pretending ;-)**


	3. Wait and hope

****Author's Note****

**Finally, Loki makes it to the story! His introduction was originally at the end of the previous chapter, since I had wanted the Aunt Blanche's flashback to be sandwiched in between two scenes of the current story. I thankfully realized it was just too long and deserved to stand on its own.**

**Sections entire in _italics_ denote flashbacks. Nothing from the Marvel universe is mine.**

****~ Refictionista**, July 3, 2014  
**

* * *

§ **Chapter II **§  
wait and hope

* * *

Thor arrived at the Bifröst holding Loki securely by his arm. The fallen prince of Asgard moved slowly as the shackles binding him restricted his movements. A muzzle over his mouth kept his manipulations and lies at bay.

"Greetings, Heimdall," said Thor as he stepped away from the portal. The gatekeeper removed Hǫfuð, his great uru sword, from its slot on the control platform to close the vortex behind the Asgardian princes.

"Prince Thor. Prince Loki." The dark guardian's head nodded respectfully to each of them, but his multifaceted golden eyes hardened when he looked at Loki.

"Heimdall, my brother and I require horses."

The gatekeeper turned back to Thor, "Your steeds have already been requested, my prince." He paused, "Be warned, Prince Loki is to remain bound and gagged until you arrive at court. His return threatens the safety of Asgard, and only on the command of the All-father himself as he called upon my oath of fealty did I open my gate to you both."

Thor's expression fell slightly then nodded his head subtly, but Loki made no indication that he overheard their conversation. His deadpanned gaze went straight ahead, staring off far into the distance.

_Asgard was truly the most beautiful of all the realms_. Traveling through the Bifröst always left his legs unsteady, but he forced himself to remain straight despite his heavy shackles and to keep his mind focused. Loki wanted to remember this moment, as it was such a beautiful clear day. The breeze was warm and fragrant. The magical waves of the Sea of Space were rhythmic and soothing. The sky was... breathtaking. If he lived for much longer past this day, he might not see the sky for a very long time. Possibly centuries, maybe more. _So very beautiful_, thought Loki forlornly.

His vacant expression above the muzzle never revealed the despondency of the god of lies. His deep set emerald eyes remained dark and blank despite his thoughts. When taking in the sight of Asgard became too much for him to bear, he allowed his head a slow downcast tilt so that his black hair could shift and obscure his face. However, his posture never wavered.

The ride to the palace was long, but at the same time it was far too short. The brilliantly shining metropolis of Asgard was full of splendor, but even with all their glory none of the common buildings rivaled that of the palace. The tallest ziggurat in the city, surrounded by gardens and terraces with golden pipe organ-like towers stretching to the sky, challenged the height of the mountains in the distance. When they reached the entrance Thor dismounted, and then helped Loki, still manacled, off his horse. Though still warm from the sunny afternoon, the shadows of the courtyard were refreshing after the heat Loki felt from the stares of the citizens of Asgard as they had ridden through the streets.

They walked up the steps and through the golden halls of the palace. When they finally reached the doors to the Great Hall, Thor removed Loki's muzzle. Loki waggled his jaw around, "Oh, my most sincere thanks. That is _sooo_ much better." Thor made no further movement, so Loki held up his runed shackles, "You still don't trust me?"

"Would you?"

Loki rolled his eyes, "No... I wouldn't." He sighed, "Best I keep them for the time being. Perhaps I'll earn sympathy."

"Cease your mockery. I shan't hesitate to gag you anew."

Loki's lips attempted to give Thor a smile, but his eyes didn't bother. Then in an unexpected burst of gratefulness, he murmured "Thank you for letting me ride Gyllir through the city." His face was now closed and once again carefully composed.

Thor blinked, "Despite what you think, I still believe you to be my brother. Even with all you have done, I would never bring you home in a tumbrel."

_Home_. The word mocked him; Loki looked away and said nothing.

The armored guards pushed opened the doors and the Great Hall of Valhöll was open before them. They walked towards the throne together. It was so unlike the joyful day of Thor's ultimately unsuccessful coronation. Gone were the courtiers, the cheering, the celebratory attitude. There ahead sat Odin, their father, on his golden throne with Frigga, his wife and queen by his side. The Warriors Three and Lady Sif stood beneath the dais. A few council members and advisers were visible from the penetralia, but they were silent and remained mostly hidden by the shadows.

Without preamble, Thor dropped to one knee and bowed his head, "Sire, I beg leniency for the prisoner, my brother."

Thor's words for once, were slow and deliberate; it was obvious he had thought long about what to say. Loki raised one eyebrow as he watched Thor continue to speak. "Verily, 'twas my rash behavior that first lead Loki down this path. I should have treated my brother better. I was a vain, greedy, cruel boy. An unworthy heir to your throne."

Loki fought the urge to roll his eyes yet again.

"Therefore Father, whatever is to be done, I ask that you share his punishment with me. I claim responsibility for some of the crimes he was forced to take. He should not be punished for the wrongs I committed."

Loki turned his head to Thor in confusion, their mother started to smile, and the Warriors Three gasped in exclamation. "Thor, do not let your feelings for your brother cloud your judgment," Lady Sif's tone was urgent.

Thor stood and turned a glare at Sif, "You dare to tell Thor how to feel and act?" Sif only answered his question with a pained expression.

"Enough," Odin's voice carried throughout the Great Hall. The argument between Thor and his entourage ceased. "Loki, would you tell me that the fault is not just thine, but rests with Prince Thor as well?" The honorific was noticeably absent prior to Loki's name.

"Yes, he does," Thor said quickly before Loki could say otherwise.

"Prince Thor, be silent," after which Odin said nothing. He sat still, unmoving. His one eye's piercing gaze never left Loki or blinked. To his credit, Loki posture remained perfect, and he didn't break eye contact. After a prolonged wait, there was a collective exhale as the All-father finally stood. "Tell me Loki, traitor who I once called my son, what do you believe would be an appropriate punishment? An execution usually follows such treason."

"Agreed. I would kill me and be done with it."

The silence that followed was a gaping void that begged to be filled with sounds, a cough, anything. All those present sensed it; the stillness in the Great Hall of Valhöll was an unnatural quiet and felt poisonous.

The queen could not endure the wordless atmosphere. Crying out and stumbling forward, Frigga braced herself against Odin's shoulder. "My son, no! You don't mean that!"

"I meant every word." Loki's casual shrug was belied by the venom in his voice. "If I'm for the axe, then for mercy's sake just swing it. It's not that I don't love our little talks, it's just... I don't love them." When he would have said more, he stopped at the sight of his mother now openly weeping.

Thor stared at Loki in shock. There was the truth, plain as Odin's white beard. Loki had not used his silver tongue. He did not talk his way out of his predicament or even try to do so... _had he given up_?

If the All-father himself had at all been shaken, then he had already recovered before anyone in the throne room noticed. "I'll take your suggestion under advisement. Until then, I order you to wait securely in a cell benefiting your station until such time that I decide otherwise. No one is to visit you in the dungeons, so that you may reflect undisturbed in quiet meditation on your actions."

Loki shrugged with feigned indifference.

* * *

§

* * *

_Sidney was sitting in a windowless room on an uncomfortable aluminum chair on one side of a large table across from an empty chair. Agent Fury had brought her in and deposited her on the chair, saying he would be right back.  
_

_That had been at least fifteen minutes ago.  
_

_When finally he came back, he was carrying a large metallic case. Fury set it down on the table off to the side, and then turned around without saying a word._

_"Do you think I could have my purse back, please? If I'm going to be here a while, then I wouldn't mind having my book," Sidney said nonchalantly. Fury didn't leave, only turned around again to stand next to the door, and she gave him what she hoped was an innocent looking smile._

_"You mean your grimoire?" an older man said, entering the room._

_Sidney's head snapped up. _He was a big, rough-looking man with a heavily muscled neck, although he was wearing an almost casual looking grey suit with a comically bright red tie._ The clothing said he was friendly, but the eyes _underneath bushy gray eyebrows_ lacked accommodation. From the way Fury almost imperceptibly stood up a bit straighter, Sidney gathered he was in charge.  
_

_"Yes, I had a feeling that's what that paperback novel was," he commented, absently chuckling to himself as he sat down across from her. "You'll get your things back soon, I promise," the older man said while smiling like a politician. "Anyway, now... Good morning, Miss Bergman. I'm Director Richard Stoner with the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division."_

_Sidney crossed her arms. "Bergström," she corrected him, not bothering with the title. "And that's quite a mouthful, Director Stoner."  
_

_He smiled, "I know. We're working on it. Please, do relax. Call me Rick."_

_"Okay, _Dick_," she said his name sarcastically, "Would you mind telling me why I was forcibly taken here? If it wouldn't be too inconvenient, that is. Agent Fury over there wasn't all that enlightening, so I'm assuming either he doesn't know or maybe someone like you told him not to tell me." She huffed and waved a hand about slightly, "Not that I didn't enjoy your helicopter ride, but I actually had better ways that I had planned to spend my day off than being a prisoner." Before he had a chance to respond she continued, "Now, please. Do tell me what was so "essential" that you find me as soon as possible." One of her air quotes turned into an obscene hand gesture as her hands went back to rest on her lap.  
_

_Director Stoner leaned back as well and braced his arms against the table, "Yep, she's a plucky one. Nick, did I or did I not say that I knew she was going to be fearless?"_

_"Yes, sir. You said that."_

_He winked at her, "I'm never wrong." Sidney suppressed the urge to childishly stick out her tongue and roll her eyes at his familiar tone. "Well, my dear. Yes, by all means, let's get down to business." He stood and moved the hefty case to the center of the table, scratching the surface as he dragged it over. "First, you aren't our prisoner. We simply brought you here to take a look at something." He unlocked the case and lifted the lid, "Fury tells me that your family has experience dealing with... artifacts... like this one."_

_Despite her better judgment, Sidney found herself leaning forward to look inside._

* * *

§

* * *

A week after Loki came back, the All-Father sat in his private chamber, his wife standing across the room next to the hearth facing him.

"You went to visit him." His tone was accusatory and displeased.

"Yes."

"He was not to have any visitors until I..."

"He is _our_ son. He needs our love more than anything else in the Nine Worlds right now. However, you'll be happy to know that _I_ indeed obeyed your orders."

Odin raised an eyebrow.

"I projected an image of myself in his cell; though it saddened me to not be able to hold our child in my arms, I never actually went down to the dungeons. Whether or not my actions actually disturbed Loki's meditation is a query you would have to put to him, not I."

Odin sighed, and rested his head in his hands. He gave a mirthless laugh, "You two share an intelligence beyond compare, my Queen." He looked back up at her and then back down to the flames in the hearth, "I am so weary."

"You need rest, my love," Frigga walked over and knelt before him, stroking his cheek.

He patted her hand, "Despite all I have survived, my Queen still worries over me."

"It's only because I still worry over you that you have survived." Odin looked down a Frigga staring up at him. His beautiful wife and queen was smiling patiently.

"What would you have me do?" he asked belatedly.

Frigga's smile widened, "You banished one foolish son to Midgard, and though it broke my heart when you sent him away, he came back changed for the better."

Odin leaned back with a scowl on his face.


	4. Sleep is the best meditation

****Author's Note****

**Nothing from the Marvel universe is mine.**

****~ Refictionista**, July 10, 2014  
**

* * *

§ **Chapter III **§  
sleep is the best meditation

* * *

Once upon a time, Sydney made a decision. An important one.

She knew she wasn't dead, but she was somewhat certain she wasn't actually alive either. She had decided that her existence was... well... _complicated_, but most importantly _not dead_. The phrase 'once upon a time' was the most accurate description of _when_ she made this decision, because she wasn't sure if she came to this conclusion recently or long ago.

Time was a concept she could no longer fully grasp.

But that wasn't the only fuzzy thought mucking about in her mind.

Aunt Blanche had been here, or she hadn't. She was stronger, but she was powerless. It was cold, yet she couldn't feel anything at all. A thousand years passed, and time stood still.

Nothing made sense.

This vagueness confused Sydney. She had been upset about her circumstances, what with the catastrophic shift from the reality as she remembered it to the current lack of knowing what was going on and why she was here. Wherever here might be. But since labeling herself as _complicated_, she'd become the level headed person she knew she once was. It was human nature to want structure, and Sydney was almost certain she was still human. Around 98% to 99% certain.

Though, a place like this made it hard to be level headed. This world danced around her in millions of colors. Like a chorus of all the butterflies that ever lived singing about a sunrise and flying in every direction all at once.

Nothing was in its true form. This world wasn't real. Nothing was real, unless she really concentrated.

Consequently, Sydney was concentrating right now. Hard.

* * *

_Go down the street behind that rubble._

Eriko stopped, she could have sworn she heard or felt something. It was like when a strong wind rustled through trees and sounded almost like spoken words. She had goosebumps and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up, which was quite impressive considering how sweaty and filthy she was. Eriko looked around for a reason for feeling like someone was trying to get her attention. No one. Nothing. She dismissed whatever that was; none of the rescue workers nearby were paying her any notice.

She shook her head; her mind must be wandering. _Damn it_. She didn't have time for this, even if she was exhausted. "Juba! Juba, where are you?!" Her voice hurt. She had been calling for her daughter for so long.

_Sato Eriko! Go to the other side the pile of the rubble in front of the bodega down the street._

There it was again, but it was definitely a voice now; she knew she heard someone say Sato Eriko. Someone was calling for her by her maiden name and maybe saying something else... or was it more of a feeling? She spun around, still not seeing anyone near her.

"Oh, no. I'm losing it." Shaking, Eriko wrapped her arms around her chest. She felt strangely cold. Her soiled pink bouclé jacket was missing a sleeve, where Juba had torn it off in an attempt to stay with her. She started crying, tears from her already dehydrated body flowing freely down her face, leaving track marks through the soot and ash on her cheeks. Was this nightmare ever going to end?

A moment passed and a paramedic, or maybe a policeman, Eriko couldn't tell without her glasses, came up to her, "Ma'am, are you okay?"

She snapped at the rescue worker, "No, I need to find my daughter." Eriko realized the man was only trying to help, and she forcibly regained control of her tone, "Please, she's only fourteen. We got separated when everyone started running. This is the last place I saw her." Eriko looked around questionably, "I think."

"I see. What's her name?"

"Lee Jubilation. Jubilation Lee," Eriko's voice cracked and her chin quivered. She was on the brink of collapsing, "Her name is Juba."

The man standing next to her nodded his head, looking around as well. His tone switched from urgency and concern to calm and sympathetic, "Why don't you head over to the Red Cross tent down the street, have a seat, and give them her details. They have bottled water and -

Down the street? _Down the street._

A blinding white light hit Eriko right between the eyes, she screamed wordlessly and fell down to her knees, clutching her head. It was like someone had set off fireworks inside her skull, and it hurt. The remains of her once perfect French twist finally letting go in a disarray of black and gray hair around her face and between her clenched fingers. The paramedic who had first tried to catch her then tried to help her back up, but Eriko angrily swatted him away. She crawled forward a bit, and then she staggered up.

Her vision was clear, clearer than Eriko ever remembered. Yes, she knew exactly where Juba was.

With an unforeseen burst of energy, she started running down East 82nd Street towards a pile of rubble. She paid no attention to the man calling for her to come back.

Where her second wind came from she didn't know, but she skidded to a stop after making it to the debris. She was hardly out of breath, but suddenly she froze and was unable to move as she looked down. There near her feet was the body of a grotesque cyborg-like creature half buried under the concrete blocks.

"Please be dead. Please be dead. Please be dead."

The sight on the ground didn't stop her long; the body wasn't her daughter and this wasn't the first demon she had seen today. Terrified it would move, she worked her way cautiously past the area, ignoring the creature and searching again for Juba.

_Over there_, "Juba!"

Her daughter sat with a group of people huddled under an archway further down beyond the street corner. She was clutching Eriko's torn sleeve tightly. Her daughter was alive.

Injured it seemed, but alive. Someone had tied a strip from the remains of what might have once been a white t-shirt around one of her knees. There was a trickle of dried blood coming out one of her ears and her eyes were confused, vacant. Juba's stare looked right through her, blinking slowly.

The girl looked down at her hands now held by her mother's, then up and tried to focus on Eriko's face. "Mom?"

As Eriko cried and happily hugged her daughter, she could have sworn she heard fireworks.

* * *

Sydney relaxed. Her mind drifted back to the vagueness again. The a cappella music that was there but wasn't there engulfed her once more in its beauty. This time, it didn't upset her. Somehow, she knew that she would soon leave the colorful world around her. It was a new sensation, as if she was waiting for something that was finally coming; she hadn't felt anticipation before. The mist of confusion was still there, perhaps just more transparent.

Sydney then came to another conclusion. She was wrong; _this place was real_.

In a strange way she smiled, even without a face.

She realized that all along, she had been looking at magic itself.


	5. Get mad, then get over it

****Author's Note****

**Welcome to the chapter where I ****_finally_**** throw in some limes; unfortunately, - spoiler! - no lemony Loki goodness yet.**

**Numbers in [brackets] denote footnotes, which you can find at the bottom of the chapter. Nothing from the Marvel universe is mine.**

**~ Refictionista, July 17, 2014**

* * *

§ **Chapter IV **§  
get mad, then get over it

* * *

"You mean my magic?!" Loki crossed his arms and looked away, "Absolutely not. I'd rather stay in these lovely accommodations."

With fingers buried in his hair, Thor gazed apologetically at his brother behind the energy shield of his prison cell and watched Loki's calm demeanor with a growing sense of dread. His brother didn't have a choice, and he knew this. It was only a matter of time before the god of mischief became manic.

Loki straightened a nonexistent crease in his dark green tunic and sat down with a flourish, propping an elbow on the table and resting his chin on his hand. "I will not go."

"You don't have a choice, father decided..."

"Your father, _not_ mine!" Loki sprang up and pounded a fist on the energy shield, which seemed to spark violently back at him. Loki didn't flinch.

"So I am not your mother?" Frigga said softly after she materialized next to Loki. His mother, the Queen, was one of the fairest, kindest, and wisest Asgardians, all of which was seen in her blue eyes... regardless if those eyes were a mirage or not. Frigga's serene face waited patiently while Loki crossed his arms and stalked over to the opposite side of his cell, saying nothing and purposely avoiding her question. Her eyes followed him the entire time. "Nothing in the Nine Realms will ever make me feel differently about my love for you. You are my son. We are your family." Thor shifted uncomfortably in the passageway, but nodded in honest agreement.

"Family doesn't destroy that which you cherish the most."

"Your father doesn't want to destroy your magic." Frigga clasped her hands sedately in front of her gown and tilted her head slightly, "He would by no means do so."

"You are not a naïf!" Loki shot back. "How could you possibly pretend to be that oblivious? He was willing to have me executed," his voice trailed off with a broken sigh.

"I would not have allowed it." Frigga narrowed her eyes, her posture now straighter, protective. "Never."

"Verily! Neither would I," said Thor.

Loki looked at Frigga and Thor with shoulders slumped. He wearily sat back down at the table, the élan in his movements now faded. "Why bother?" his voice a half whisper. "There is no redemption for the damage I have done."

"This Hel is of your own making, hence the need for you to journey with me to Midgard for reparations. The only redemption you will find is when you put yourself aside to feel deeply for those you have wronged, verily anyone... just someone else. However, this atonement must be a decision of your own choosing, for involuntary servitude will offer no true redemption," Thor said.

"Brother, I stand amazed. You have become a poet."

"Any great warrior is also a scholar and a poet," said Thor. It was a surprise to the three of them when Loki's mirth returned.

"Well said _Odinson_," said Loki with a laugh. "I would love to hear you repeat those words in front of your companions at arms."

Yet, Thor... a _scholar_? Loki laughed again. However, His boff this time was more agitated and tortuous than the sound of his almost forgotten golden laughter, but Frigga and Thor still smiled, seeing that some small bit of humor had reached his eyes. For a moment, the three of them were together in a companionable silence with familial warmth poking around the edges. It didn't last long. Loki's weak smile slowly faded. He stared vacantly beyond Thor, lost in his thoughts.

Just as Thor had looked to his mother's illusory image for guidance on what to do next, Loki spoke, "You don't parole a rabid dog by putting it on a leash; you exterminate it before anyone else suffers." Thor cringed at the latest rejoinder subtly pleading for his execution, but Loki never noticed. His gaze still empty, he continued, "Your hope for me is misguided at best, but more likely that notion is merely insane as I. Were I to get out, sooner or later I would regain my magic and become the devastation that's ends you both."

Another pause.

"Was I not to bring about Ragnarök? Did your sight not show you this?" Loki asked Frigga bitterly.

"The Nine Realms are not eternal. They had a dawn, as they will have a dusk. However, the time for you to bear that burden is not yet near, my son."

Loki blinked and slowly focused back on his mother's illusion before him, "Still... I _am_ mad."

Frigga was undeterred, "Yes, a dark madness passed over you. I foresaw this too long ago, but I also saw that a light would shine through."

Loki spat dryly and rolled his eyes, "I will not go." However, this time his protestation was much less adamant.

* * *

§

* * *

"Seriously? You brought the Heir of Slytherin to _my_ place," Tony Stark stood shocked and unmoving for all of 1.5 seconds, then shook his head and glared at Thor. "No with a capital H-E-L-L. That crazy son of a bitch cannot stay here."

"Have a care how you speak. Loki has done terrible things, but he is of Asgard and he is my brother!"

"Why should he? Your asshole brother threw him out a window on the 92nd floor.[4] He put Barton under a homicidal spell," Natasha Romanoff's voice rose as she pointed to Hawkeye on the balcony above them. Her fellow agent was observing them with predatory eyes from the upper level with what was possibly a near-permanent frown. "He killed eighty fellow agents in two days, and they don't know yet the civilian death count from Manhattan!" Her yelling now seemed to shake her whole body. Natasha wasn't one for emotional outbursts, and the sight of her this affected was slightly unnerving to nearly everyone in the room. Except Loki, who had been mildly amused earlier by the arguments ensuing between all the different parties around him. Discord was the fuel to his fire.

However, he found the silent tension in the room after the Black Widow's diatribe unpalatable, and sought to end it. "In Thor's defense, I'm adopted," Loki then interjected. "And technically, I'm not of Asgard."

"Loki, _silence_!"

"Just trying to help, you oaf."

"Well, you're not."

"Enough!" Clint Barton shouted. Everyone in the room hushed as he jumped off the railing and walked up to the group. He stopped right in front of Loki, giving the manacled god a look of pure contempt.

Then he punched Loki. Full steam. It was hard enough force to wipe the smirk off his face instantly.

Loki stumbled back towards Thor, who tried to steady him, blood already spurting from his nose. Loki shook the attempted assistance from his brother off with muted revulsion while Tony eyed the blood drops landing on his white carpet with disdain. Clint then stood coolly and unblinking as Natasha quietly stepped to his side slightly behind him with an equally detached look on her previously incensed face. "Let me do that once a day, and I'll be fine with him staying," Clint said as he turned and motioned to Natasha with a barely noticeable flick of his eyes. She nodded faintly and together they left the room, slamming the door shut with a resonating thud.

Those remaining glanced at each other uncertainly, but then Tony started laughing.

"You're rubbing off on Legolas," Tony said to Bruce, he picked up his abandoned scotch from a side table and raised it in a mock toast. "Color me impressed."

Bruce Banner laughed back, "If we all get to punch him, then I want a turn. The other guy loved smashing him."

Loki blanched visibly for the first time since arriving back on Midgard, though it was unnoticeable given his already pale complexion. He painfully remembered the Hulk making Loki-sized indentations in the concrete floor here in Stark's tower a month prior. His cringe didn't deter the chuckles between the two geniuses.

"There is no honor is striking a bound man," Thor said stepping forward.

"Luckily for me, that rule doesn't apply to bloodthirsty ass-clowns," Tony winked at the disgruntled god of thunder and downed the rest of his glass in one gulp. He walked back to the bar looking for the bottle. "You're being quiet, Capsicle. Any thoughts?"

Steve Rogers didn't bother glaring at Tony for the nickname like he usually did for the never-ending stream of wisecracks. He looked at each of the faces of the remaining Avengers in the room pensively; finally he said "I agree with Thor; it's wrong to kick a man while he is down."

Loki whistled, "Did the champion of righteousness just defend me? God bless America."

"I wasn't defending you."

"Sure sounded like it. Next thing we know, you'll be giving us all a rousing lecture about truth, honor, and patri..."

Before he could finish, Thor abruptly grabbed hold of Loki, securing his hand over his mouth and roughly shoved him down onto a nearby couch, silencing any further attempts to provoke those around him. Loki glared at his brother with distaste, but Thor didn't budge. "I shall silence you by any means necessary." He removed his hand and pointed a finger at Loki until his brother finally huffed and turned his head away.

"J.A.R.V.I.S." Tony called out as he walked back, tossing an empty bottle into a nearby wastebasket. "We're going to need more Macallan M."

"Of course, sir," a disembodied voice replied. "Will that be just one whole case or do you plan on sharing?"

* * *

"He doesn't have his magic anymore," Natasha said, her hand absently hovering over the sidearm strapped to her leg. She took it out and unconsciously started to check the clip a second time, but then decided to put the gun down on the side table next to the couch.

"That's not what Thor said," Hawkeye was pacing, the tightly wound muscles in his broad shoulders radiating tension. The small office next to Stark's lab felt like a cage to him. Plus, his hand was _killing_ him. Loki's face had felt like it was made of solid rock through his gauntlet.

"Close enough."

"Now is not the time to placate to me, Tasha."

"Clint, you're gonna be alright." She studied at his agitated face and the hand he was cradling, working out how best to help him work through this. "That punch was off though; your elbow was too low for a right hook to the head."

He stopped pacing, "I hit things better from a distance." She raised an eyebrow skeptically, but he didn't rise to the bait.

The Black Widow didn't give up. "Still," she hesitated with a smirk, "you should go down to the gym and spar with Steve; he's usually there in the evenings." Clint didn't respond, so Natasha pushed further, "I'm sure that a 90-year-old could go easy on you until you get your game back."

"Fuck you."

_That worked_. Natasha shrugged indifferently, "Okay, sure. That works for me; I wouldn't mind alleviating some stress."

Clint did a double take, and then they both started laughing.

He took a breather against the wall, "Thanks, I needed that. Seriously though, this is a problem. He _can't_ stay here. I can't deal with this."

"I know," she got up and locked the door. "First, you help me work off some stress and clear my head. Then, we'll figure it out."

Clint eyed her warily, but Natasha simply pushed him onto the couch and straddled him. "Don't be a child; you need to relax even more than I do. If you lose control of your emotions again in front of that deranged psychopath, then you'll be of little use to the rest of us." Natasha took off the holster and strap off her thigh and set them next to the sidearm she had discarded earlier. She wrapped her arms around his neck, the skin on her forearms brushing against the muscles which felt every bit as painfully coiled as they had looked. "That's if you don't mind," she said, waiting patiently. Clint opened his eyes and squinted at her like he was trying to figure out a puzzle.

It didn't take him long to make a decision. He brought his mouth up to the base of her neck, the movement so fast it blurred. His hesitation gone, he picked her up and rolled on top of her. She released a satisfied moan, "Bozhe moi."[5]

* * *

"I'm going to report to S.H.E.I.L.D. what's happening. I would have assumed that Barton or Romanoff would have already made that call, but since Fury hasn't called and we haven't had any agents burst in with guns aimed at our... _guest_, I'm starting to doubt that." Steve regarded Loki with the patience of a saint, "Is there anything you'd like for me to say on your behalf?"

"That I'll turn Crown Prince of Asgard and even you into frogs given half a chance."[6]

Captain Rogers recoiled slightly from Loki, who smiled at his discomfort from behind the bag of ice over his face. Steve cleared his throat and got up to make the call. Next to him, Thor elbowed Loki in the ribs, who tried to glower in return. Unfortunately, that didn't come off as menacingly as he had hoped, so he got up and moved away from Thor to an adjacent chair.

"You are not helping matters," Thor scolded. "Why would you try to make this more difficult on yourself?"

"Stop prolonging the inevitable. Just have them throw me in a cell and lock away the key. You know that's what they are going to do anyway," Loki snarled. He winced from moving the muscles on his face too much.

"If that was what was to happen, then we would have simply stayed on Asgard."

"That would have been my vote, you oaf," Loki muttered.

"Mine too," Bruce quipped, not taking his eyes off the equations scrolling across the tablet in his lap.

"See, both of the monsters in the room think my incarceration would be a good idea," Loki said snidely, but faltered when he saw that Bruce breathing heavily and glaring at him.

"It is not a good idea to make me angry," the doctor's tone grew fiercer with each word. A tinge of green passed across his face like a moving shadow.

Loki tried not to show fear and fought the urge to lean closer to Thor, but it must not have worked. Bruce's face cracked into a huge grin and his round brown eyes twinkled like fireflies in a Disney movie. "I'm sorry. That was mean, but for a god of lies, you're easily fooled," he taunted, all traces of hulking out gone.

Bruce was apparently the only one in the room amused.

Loki hid his sigh of relief by slouching down into the cushions. He closed his eyes and pouted his lips to give the impression of boredom. In reality, he was exhausted.

"No sir, that won't be necessary," Steve said, presumably to Director Fury on the line. "I don't think we should bring him to a S.H.E.I.L.D. facility, either." A pause. "Of course I don't trust him," at this Steve looked up apologetically to both Thor and Loki, who cringed and ignored him, respectively. Steve pinched his nose between his fingers and turned away. It seemed the call was going just as bad as was expected.

"Sir," J.A.R.V.I.S.'s voice interrupted the uncomfortable group, "Your scotch has arrived."

"Thank God," Tony perked up, "I'm starving."

* * *

§

* * *

[4] **James Chinlund, the production designer for the movie, said in an interview that "Tony Stark bought the iconic MetLife Building and ripped off the top adding his own piece of parasitic architecture to the top." Not that this is important to know, I just thought it was cool. Anyway, Wikipedia says that the Stark Tower is 93 stories tall and that Tony used the top three floors as his state-of-the-art bachelor pad, which he later gave over to the Avengers as their base of operations. So ****_my educated guess_**** is that Loki threw Stark out of the 92nd floor.**

[5] **_Bozhe moi_**** (боже мой) is Russian for ****_my God_****. Technically, I think that ****_slava bogu_**** (слава богу), which is ****_thank god_**** according to Google Translate, would have been more appropriate in the story, but I really liked the way Natasha said ****_bozhe moi_**** in the movie. I just didn't get the same feeling when I imagined her saying ****_slava_****_bogu_**** in the scene.**

[6] **No seriously, this happened... go Google ****Thor #364 "Frog of Thunder"**** where Loki turns Thor into a talking frog who battles it out with sinister rats in Central Park. Truly ribbiting material... ****_I am not funny enough to make this stuff up, so I really shouldn't make terrible puns about it_****. The eighties were a toadally radical time for comics... ****_Oh God, someone make me stop before I hurt myself_****. :-)**


	6. Risk vs benefit analysis

****Author's Note****

**Who remembers paying for online service ****_by the hour_****? CompuServe email addresses with those ridiculous strings of numbers? Yeah, fun times.**

**I thought an archived email would be a fun change over my ordinary flashbacks; however, note that this 'email' flashback section isn't in _italics_ (as the others were). Also, I had to really search Character Map to come up with something similar to the necessary symbols to approximate an email address. The FanFiction filters block anything resembling websites or emails, which sucks when you want to have an email ****_in your story_****. **

**Anyway, I digress. As I was saying, these email addresses are totally made up. Please visualize them using real 'at' symbols, proper dot com/org domains and maybe in a Courier New or pixelated font (if you feel like going all out with your imagination).**

****Numbers in [brackets] denote footnotes, which you can find at the bottom of the chapter.** Nothing from the Marvel universe is mine. Same goes for CompuServe. Let me put it this way, anything you recognize = not me.**

**~ Refictionista, July 24, 2014**

* * *

§ **Chapter V **§  
risk vs. benefit analysis

* * *

A very displeased Director Fury arrived within minutes at Stark Tower, along with three dozen well-armed and mortally serious-looking agents. Earlier, Hill had expressed her reservations about his going in person to meet with the Avengers and the war criminal Loki, but he almost immediately dismissed her recommendation to stay behind. He was fairly certain that she was not going to go straight to the World Security Council with her concerns, but he needed to move quickly before she became too apprehensive.

His ire rose higher when he walked into the lounge, still undergoing renovations on the 91st floor of Stark Tower. Tony Stark was sitting on a couch with a half empty bottle of a very expensive Scotch next to him on an end table, which he was currently reaching for to pour into an empty lowball glass. He had one foot resting on the other leg's knee and seemed to be thumping out to music playing only in his head. After taking a sip, Stark started playing air guitar, belting out "_When will this nightmare be over? Tell me! When can I empty my head?_"[7] His terrible attempt at singing was the only noise in the room, and Fury hated heavy metal.

Dr. Bruce Banner paid no attention to Stark seated the other end of the couch. He was intently reading a tablet placed on the coffee table in front of him and taking notes. He briefly looked up over the top of his glasses when Fury and his entourage arrived, but went right back to reading. Agents Romanoff and Barton were nowhere to be found.

Across the room on another couch, though this one was covered by a dusty and paint-splattered canvas tarp, sat Thor, god of thunder, drinking a beer. A _beer_. Like nothing was going on to cause any concern. Like his murdering son of a bitch brother sitting in the chair next to him was no big fucking deal. Loki was slouched down in the tarp covered cushions, eyes closed, either sleeping or bored. This pissed Fury off more. Captain Steve Rogers was behind Loki's chair, arms crossed and leaning against an exposed steel pillar from a wall waiting for Sheetrock. When Captain Rogers noticed Fury, he stood up straight and put his hands behind his back. He was the only one who seemed to notice or care that the director of S.H.E.I.L.D. had just arrived with a small army.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen. Am I interrupting?!"

Rogers looked confused, "Sir, we were waiting on you to arrive."

"How very thoughtful of you Captain. Is there any particular reason that the alien cocksucker responsible for bringing a mother fucking war to our backyard is taking a nap, unrestrained, when he should be locked up in a cell without a key for the rest of his goddamn immortal life?"

"Well, I'm unfortunately sleeping no longer, if that is of any consequence to you," Loki said, his eyes still closed. He started chuckling. "Though the immortality..." Thor kicked his brother, who opened his eyes and gave him a dirty look in return. The S.H.E.I.L.D. agents streamed out from behind Fury, filing into the room quickly and aimed their weapons at Loki. The god of lies rolled his head, still resting on the back of the chair, lazily around in an arc from side to side to see the all of the armed men, "Overkill, don't you think?" Thor kicked him again. Loki picked up his head, "Cease your childish antics, rasshøl."

"Sir, he was in restraints when he arrived." Rogers replied. He hesitated, "But then they were removed because-"

"Because Surfer Ken over there said we weren't allowed to hit him anymore if he was wearing the manacles," Stark interrupted. He chortled, "Kinda like the Jerry Springer Show when they kicked off their shoes before a fight... anyway, we had him lose the restraints, just in case Banner wanted a chew toy." Dr. Banner grinned and finished writing something, and then he looked up at Fury with that twinkle from earlier in his eyes and nodded, somewhat gleefully, in agreement.

Looking at Dr. Banner, Fury suppressed a shiver. Not that he would show it, of course, but the man had the singular ability to scare him even more than Loki... or _any _other man, god or alien for that matter. The idea of even Loki becoming his "chew toy" was frightening. He pushed the horrifying images of the Hulk out of his mind.

Stark seemed to finally take notice of the armed me on the other side of the room. "Hey... J.A.R.V.I.S., how did the men with guns get up here?"

"They took your executive elevator, sir," the A.I. system responded promptly.

"J.A.R.V.I.S., remind me to discuss how I want you to answer my questions and the importance of giving me a heads up later."

"Yes, sir."

Black Widow and Hawkeye arrived, walking into the unfinished lounge from a hallway on the side of the building not currently under construction. "Sir," they both said to Fury. They stopped at Banner and Stark's side of the room. Romanoff turned to Stark, "Sorry about them catching you off-guard like that," she shrugged unapologetically, "Fury had us disable your-"

Fury held up a hand, "Now that we are all _here_, someone needs to explain the situation to me." His glowering eye looked at each face

Thor put his beer down, but remained seated, "Our father decreed that my brother is to make amends to the people of Midgard. He and I shall spend a fortnight here, amongst the mortals, where he will perform acts of goodwill and recompense, thereafter we shall return for a sennight to Asgard. This cycle continues until the All-Father orders otherwise. In return, as king and ruler of Asgard, he pledges his troth to personally come to the aid of Midgard should Loki or aught threaten your realm again."

Fury didn't even know where to begin.

"You call that answering for his crimes? Walking free here on earth doing good deeds, then going back home on vacation?" Fury went back to his original question, "Why isn't he in a cell?"

"Nay, you will not imprison my brother while he resides in this realm, that is a surety. Verily, his time in Asgard will be no holiday, for he is to-"

"Remember that I got out of the last cage you tried to use on me," Loki interjected smugly. "Don't tell me that you are foolish enough to try that mistake again," he paused, "or perhaps with only one eye you have difficulty seeing such problems. Don't be ashamed mortal; Odin suffers from a similar affliction."

* * *

"Something's up," Natasha said quietly, watching the heated exchange grow between Director Fury and the god of thunder. "Loki isn't lying, but he isn't telling the truth either."

"You mean other than how he likely plans on killing us all in our sleep and trying to take over the planet again the next morning?" Tony had stood up to join her and Clint.

"No, it was something about toads," said Bruce.

"What do you think is his play?" Clint asked, ignoring Tony and Bruce.

"I don't know, but I'm going to find out," replied Natasha.

Natasha walked over to the crowded side of the room without notice; everyone's eyes were on Loki. She positioned herself towards the center of the group, almost between Loki and Fury. Inspecting Loki more closely than before, since this time, thanks to Clint's earlier... _assistance_, she had the advantage of doing so without emotion. The god of mischief wasn't bored; he looked... exhausted. Dark circles hung under his eyes and his pale dry skin hung almost loosely from his face and neck. Plus, his expression was _off_ somehow. Frightened? Maybe. What would... what _could_ possibly frighten him?

"You think that you can spend two weeks at a time here on Earth to make up for what you have done?" Natasha asked. Fury was currently arguing with Thor; Loki turned his attention from them to her, but said nothing. Then he seemed to lose his focus and his green eyed gaze went straight through her. _No_, she thought_, Loki isn't frightened_.

"Do you really think you can get rid of all that red off your ledger?" she worked harder for a response from him, her tone now sarcastic and mocking.

Once again, the Black Widow's singular and specific skill set was rewarded. Loki blinked and directed his attention back to her, "No better than you, my dear. Could you wipe out that much red?"

"I'd like to wipe it out."

"Can you? Dreykov's daughter, Sao Paulo, the hospital fire?" Loki said, repeating information Hawkeye had told him while under his spell. "Nothing will make up for those horrors; the same as it is for me. What I have done is a part of me, and that will never go away."

"So you think your debts are impossible to repay?"

Loki started laughing. "No amount of our suffering would ever equal what you or I have wrought."

Natasha's demeanor quickly changed. Loki looked at her, confusion evident in his face at the redhead's wide-eyed expression. She said nothing as the room seemed to watch for any further reaction from her, but she gave no clue as to what she was thinking. She simply nodded to Fury as if affirming something, then turned and walked back over to Clint's side. Tony poked her in the shoulder in an attempt to get her to share what she had discovered. Apparently unwilling to share and annoyed by his too forceful nudge, she whispered something harshly in return. Tony cringed and covered his groin with a hand. Clint smirked.

Fury exhaled, it was time for the god of lies to start talking. He wanted some answers. The bastard owed him that much. "Let's take a step back and start at the beginning. Now," he glared at the unrepentant looking god sulking before him, "not that I trust you, but why does the boot want to make amends with the ants?"

* * *

§

* * *

˃** From**: ˂721978.5248(a)compuserve·com˃ "Blanche Bergstrom"  
˃ **Message-Id**: ˂8Xwzlolz311785(a)compuserve·com˃  
˃ **To**: ˂njfury1948(a)615712·un·org˃[8] "Nick Fury"  
˃** Subject**: keep her safe  
˃ **Date**: Wed, 18 Oct 1996 14:24:35 +0100

˃ Nick,

˃ By the time you read this, I will be dead. Know this; it was your actions that lead to my end.  
˃ As such, you owe me a life debt. You will now heed what I tried to tell you earlier.

˃ Your scientists were wrong when they said with certainty that the situation was neutralized. The  
˃ explosion that Sidney tried to hold back would have eventually escaped from within her body. She  
˃ merely bought the people around her time to get themselves to safety, nothing more.

˃ To save her and ultimately those around her, I struck a bargain; however, the only recompense  
˃ the Old Magic would accept was to trade my life for hers.

˃ You will now keep Sidney safe. Do not try to revive her. She is to sleep undisturbed until her  
˃ purpose from my bargain can be fulfilled.

˃ I thought of threatening you to take your debt to me seriously, but we both know I don't need to.

˃ Blanche Bergström

˃ - -  
˃ All emails remain property of CompuServe, Inc.

* * *

§

* * *

"They asked you a question, _why_ did you kill Coulson?" Fury insisted. His and the expressions from the rest of the room were singed with fire. Except for the Black Widow, whose face was devoid of emotion, and Thor, who looked at his brother with such regret that Loki had to turn away.

"I can't answer that," Loki finally responded.

"Bullshit," Stark spat, "answer the damn question."

"Can't or won't, brother?" Thor urged.

"I don't know how to answer that question," Loki answered slowly. He regretfully looked around the room, and the next words came stumbling out of his mouth, "He wasn't supposed to die."

"He wasn't _supposed_ to die," Fury repeated incredulously. "How exactly did you intend to stab a man through the heart _without_ killing him?" he asked.

Loki started laughing. His hands shook as he covered his face, "Why do you insist on such senseless queries of a madman?" No one answered his question, so he continued, "I had the sight, or I _thought_ I had the sight. My powers of premonition have never been as powerful as our mother's," Loki looked a Thor, who nodded in questioning agreement. "Simply put, I foresaw your Agent Coulson alive after our encounter. I didn't think I would or could kill him." He withdrew his hand from his forehead, and looked at Fury with haunted eyes, "Obviously, I was wrong."

An unreadable expression crossed Fury's face,[9] "You didn't _think_ you could kill him?" The director's anger had dissolved into slightly caustic confusion.

Loki said nothing.

Thor coughed, "Verily, I believe he speaks in truth."

"Are you serious? He is the _god of lies_," said Stark. "Is he even capable of the truth? Or are you just trying to cover for him?"

"You question my honor, Man of Iron?"

"It matters not!" Loki shouted, never raising his head. His dark hair hung limply in clumps over his face. His shoulders fell as if suddenly under an unexpected weight. "Silence, you squabbling fools," he continued, this time without any strength or conviction in his voice. He looked up at Stark, "In regards to the murder of your comrade, either I speak the truth, having fallen prey to delusions that he would live, or I lie, in which case I am still the monster you know me to be." Loki looked then to Fury, "Neither option changes my original statement; I cannot answer your question."

Fury's permanent frown didn't waiver, his one eye bored holes into Loki's. "If, and this a pretty damn big if, I were to believe you had actually believed this magical premonition that you wouldn't kill Agent Coulson, then what should I expect now from you? Better yet, what would you have done differently?"

"You're asking what I would have changed?" Loki asked. Fury nodded. "Nothing," said Loki.

Before the room could erupt in shouting again, Fury asked, "Why would you have changed nothing?"

"Your floating fortress was falling from the sky. Your heroes were scattered," Loki looked around the room. "Looking back, you, all of you, needed a push in the right direction. You needed to work as a team to vanquish an enemy as powerful as me." He turned to look again at Fury, "In hindsight, I see that the mortal Coulson's death was a catalyst that brought about my defeat. Would you truly have me wish to change what ultimately happened? If that is so, then perhaps you are more of a monster than I."

Either the silver-tongued Asgardian was an exceptional manipulator or showing genuine remorse. Possibly both.

"Fair enough," said Fury, no one else in the room contradicted him, each of them looking around at their fellow Avengers uncertainly. Fury, however, stared solely at Loki for a long time. Finally, he asked, "You never answered my other question. What should I expect from you now?"

"I expect to repay my debt to the people of your planet two weeks at a time," Loki replied. "Fortunately for me, I'm immortal... or close enough compared when compared to your pathetically short life spans." Thor tried to kick Loki a third time, but this time his brother teleported to the other side of Thor's couch. This caused quite a bit of alarm for the men aiming their guns at him.

Fury turned to Romanoff, "I thought you said he didn't have his magic."

"Sir, that's not exactly what Thor told us," said Barton.

Loki sighed and tried to return the conversation back to where he had been before the big oaf had sidetracked him. He continued, more tactfully this time, "Considering the possible continuance I have, I suspect that I may have enough time to finish such an undertaking." He looked up and focused on Fury, "Know this Director, I care not what your decision will be, but I will adhere to it. I have given my mother and my," he cringed, "_Thor_ my word on this." He closed his eyes and rubbed his hands over his face, the palms of his hands pressing on his eyes.

Fury nodded once and stood up. Afterwards, an unseen signal passed between him and the heavily armed agents surrounding Loki; they all lowered their weapons. He looked at Thor, "You and your father would be powerful allies to Earth, and I am inclined to accept your offer of our involvement in your brother's rehabilitation. We learned when you first arrived that only are we not alone in this universe, but we are hopelessly, hilariously outgunned." He looked back at Loki, "The world is filling up with people that can't be matched, that can't be controlled. Our recent attempts proved to me that Earth is not ready for a higher form of war, so... yes, it will definitely be my recommendation that we agree to your offer. As I see it, the benefits far outweigh the risks."

Thor smiled broadly. "My friend, Nick Fury of S.H.I.E.L.D., I give you my thanks and the thanks of the All-father," he boomed.

Loki said nothing.

* * *

§

* * *

[7] **Lyrics from _God is Dead?_, a song by Black Sabbath** **featured in the album _13_. Tony, who wore a Black Sabbath T-shirt in the movie, would totally sing this in an attempt to annoy Loki. FYI, I don't own them either.  
**

[8] **S.H.I.E.L.D. was originally backed by the United Nations, hence the UN dot org email address I created for Nick Fury.**

[9] **Spoiler! For those of you unfamiliar with the television series, _Marvel's Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D._, guess what... Coulson isn't dead. Though he appeared to have died at the hands of Loki in _The Avengers_, it is revealed in the series pilot that he was revived by medical technicians under Director Fury's orders after having been clinically dead for eight seconds (possibly more than eight seconds... you'll have to watch the show to find out more).**


	7. From a deep slumber she shall wake

**Author's Note  
**

**Numbers in [brackets] denote footnotes, which you can find at the bottom of the chapter. Nothing from the Marvel universe is mine.**

**~ Refictionista, August 1, 2014**

* * *

§ **Chapter VI **§  
from a deep slumber she shall wake

* * *

"I can think of better things to do with my time than performing menial labor," Loki muttered to his brother. The dark-haired prince seemed very out of place, the leather of his simple, yet elegant, gold and green armor was a stark contrast to the grey and black cloth uniforms of the S.H.I.E.L.D. crews mincing about them. He cringed at the thought of performing the tasks of a servant. "This is beneath me. I am a god, and I shall not be bullied by these dull creatures."

"Do you remember none of your promises? You gave me your word to recompense this world." Thor said.

"Yes, well if it's all the same to you, then I'd like to be thrown back into a cage now."

"Agreed, I can easily think of better things to do with my time than babysitting you," Natasha Romanoff said condescendingly as she and Steve Rogers joined them.

"Yet, here you are," Loki mocked.

"I pulled the short straw," Romanoff rumbled in return. Loki tilted his head, not understanding. He looked over to Captain Rogers for an explanation. Loki had learned that the soldier out of time was one of the few Avengers, perhaps the only one besides his brother, who made any attempt at politeness towards him. For the most part, Loki found Captain America's do-gooder attitude almost unbearably boring, but he admitted to himself that the man had his uses.

"She means being here wasn't her choice," Rogers clarified. "Director Fury had a lottery using straws of different lengths," he nodded over to the Black Widow, "and she just happened to snatch the one that made her the loser, the _short_ straw."

Somewhat chastened, Loki nodded in understanding. It angered him that the only one who had lost the gamble would spend time with him, but it was not much different than his life on Asgard. If anything, his station was more honestly dealt with here on Midgard. He affixed a formal mask and tone to hide the sting of the slight. "I see. My apologies for the shortness of your snatch, m'lady."

A shocked expression crossed Agent Romanoff's face, and then she stared venomously at Loki until he started to feel uncomfortable. "Have I offended you just now in some way?" he asked.

She gave him an intense glare that could have pierced a vein, and then walked away. Loki looked questioningly at Rogers, who shrugged. "I'm the wrong one to ask about dames," said the soldier.

Thor looked hesitantly at the two of them and then at Romanoff, who had stormed off to a spot a few yards away. She was now angrily opening and slamming shut the lids of nearby container crates. "Shall I... Should I stay?" he asked. He looked off in the distance, towards an outer door. "Lady Jane arrives any moment, and I am most anxious to greet her."

Loki had blissfully forgotten about the dull and depressingly plain scientist. _What do those two possibly see in each other? _Pinching his nose, he avoided looking at his oaf of a brother. "Go. Your presence will not make this monotony any less tedious. Quite the opposite, in fact. As such, you belong with the lady."

"Excellent," said Thor grinning broadly, oblivious to the sarcasm. He clapped Loki with his trunk of an arm across Loki's back and shoulders, "We should feast together on the morrow!"

Loki faltered forward from the force of the friendly gesture, and it annoyed him. Greatly. "Oh, I'm sure your lady would _love_..."

"Perhaps, we could _all_ share a meal," Rogers interjected. He gave Loki a look, urging him to be quiet. Thor, still beaming, gave them both a quick bow with his head and trampled off in a way only the god of thunder could do.

"You will quickly exhaust yourself, should you continue your attempts to mitigate my behavior," Loki quietly told Rogers after Thor left.

"Actually, your shenanigans already exhaust me."

"I'm bored," complained Loki, never once considering an apology for his behavior.

Rogers gave Loki a concerned look. Romanoff, having rejoined them, laughed, "No one wants a bored god of mischief."

"Were I a mere mortal like you, I would consider it dangerous. So, yes, it probably isn't in your best interests," Loki pouted truthfully.

"Look," Rogers said, "let's just get these crates cleared from the hangar bay. I'll help; we'll get done twice as fast. Then, maybe we can spend some time finding something more suitable for everyone here." Loki looked unconvinced, but Rogers continued. "I don't think," he paused, "much thought... was put into what kind of service would benefit both S.H.I.E.L.D. and _you_."

_An understatement, if there ever was any_, thought Loki. He wasn't entirely convinced by the soldier's optimistic suggestion, but it did introduce a tiny spark of hope. They assessed each other critically and then both looked over at Romanoff. "I'm not lifting a damn thing to help him out," she spurted. She gave Loki another glare. "Get started over there," she pointed to stack of crates, "I'll be right next to you, keeping an eye out to make sure not one toe steps out of line. Now, move."

"You will regret ordering me about thusly, sniveling mortal," Loki threatened, much too softly to be heard by the Black Widow.

* * *

Having a god with magical powers was actually quite an asset when it came to moving heavy equipment. With a flick of a wrist or a nod of his head, Loki could levitate considerable weight with ease onto the beds of the waiting forklifts. Those, in turn, took their loads to outgoing trucks in the above ground loading bays. Rogers worked in silence alongside Loki, interrupting only to make sure that the particular crate or equipment was indeed on the list of items slotted for relocation.

It was about two hours into their efforts, during the hottest part of the afternoon, when _the_ mistake occurred.

Rogers had bent over to examine a container with an assortment heavy machinery inside. With one heel against a steel support beam, he shifted his weight to force the huge load into a position where he could view the identifying tags. Had he noticed the slick oil patch collecting at the base of the pillar, he would have rethought the effort.

Unfortunately, he did not notice how his foot was positioned directly over the oil. He did notice his leg as it slipped backwards spectacularly in a clumsy and comical manner before he accidentally kicked the machinery behind the pillar. To keep himself from falling, he grabbed for the wooden paneling of the storage crate. As Rogers straightened himself up, he heard a strange clicking noise that sounded very much like a clock. However, each tick was followed by a faint hiss.

Behind him was the control panel to a larger machine, and realized his boot must have collided with a dog lever near the bottom. He looked behind the console and saw...

_A coffin_.

Well, at first glance Rogers thought it was a coffin. It was some sort of clear plastic or glass tank above a metal support filled with blue grey smoke swirling around a body. He guessed what was in it was a body; there was what appeared to be the outline of a human body through the vapors. The hissing grew louder and the smoke began dissipating. Yes, it was definitely a body, a woman.

"Hey, guys! Get over here," Rogers shouted. "Hurry!"

Romanoff and Loki, already having been on their way over when they heard the crash from Rogers' tumble, quickened their strides. Actually, Romanoff hastened over with a worried look on her face while Loki looked put upon. Rogers, uncomfortable with this unknown technology, was backing up away from the machine.

"Vot der'mo,"[10] said Romanoff.

Running down the center of the glass cylinder was seam of both metal and plastic. Indicators along the seam began to light up along regularly spaced latches. These lit clamps holding the seam together then unlatched simultaneously, and the two sides of the glass cylinder began to lower into the metal sides below the tank. A puff of cold pressurized air was released. The remaining smoke inside dissipated completely, revealing who was inside.

She was a slender young woman, in her late teens or possibly even early twenties, with skin so pale and cold that she was practically translucent. There were burn marks and soot on her pale cerulean silk blouse and she was missing one of her red Converse All-Star sneakers. Both her hands had been wrapped hastily in bandages. Her long muted-blonde hair, perhaps once beautiful and lustrous, was lank and brittle with faint ice crystals on the tips and around her hairline. She wasn't lying flat on her back. Instead, her body was twisted, her head rolled over to one side as if she had been dumped in the chamber unceremoniously.

The three stared at her for less than half a second, when their attention was drawn to a monitor on the control panel. It was some sort of odd ECG-like machine, and it now sounded an alarm as it showed a rapidly frightening arrhythmia.

"Get her out of there," Romanoff ordered. Rogers and Loki reached inside to grab the woman, then placed her on the ground away from the machine. Rogers shook his hands in an attempt to warm them after releasing her.

Rogers looked at Loki, "I don't suppose you could use magic to help her?"

"I cannot, _I should not_ use healing magic without knowing the source of her malady. Even simply warming her could end in disaster," Loki replied. "She has no wounds that I can see." He lazily tilted his head, thinking. "Her hands are bound as if injured, but I do not see how such a thing could be life threatening."

Romanoff, already on the ground next to her, nodded as if she had asked Loki the question herself. The beeping of the machine continued with the unusually fast yet sporadic rhythm. She turned to Rogers, who stood unmoving behind Loki. "Steve, go get help, and tell the medic to bring an AED!" He ran to an intercom on the other side of the hangar.

It was then that the monitor sounded another alarm as the irregular heart rate stopped altogether.

"She flat lined," Romanoff said. She looked up in the direction that Rogers had run. "Steve, tell them to bring epinephrine!" she shouted. She searched around quickly, and then gave Loki a resigned look, "I'm going to need your help." He said nothing in return, merely crouched down on the other side of the prone body before them.

Romanoff checked for a pulse and then breathing, finding neither. She unbuttoned halfway down the woman's blouse, and placed the heels of both hands on top of each other near the bottom of her ribcage. She interlocked her fingers, straightened her arms and then brought the full force of her weight from her shoulders down fiercely on the chest of the unconscious woman beneath her. Loki's heightened senses heard the crunching sound of the woman's ribs snapping away from her sternum.

Then, Romanoff started singing, "_Ah, ha, ha, ha. Stayin' alive. Stayin' alive._"[11] She performed chest compressions in sync with the beat of the disco era song. Once her rhythm was going, she looked over at wide-eyed god of mischief next to her. "Loki, put the heel of your hand on her forehead and pinch her nose shut. Use the other hand to keep her chin tilted up." She glanced over, "Okay, good. Now, when I tell you, cover her mouth with your own and give her two full breaths." Loki raised an eyebrow, but nodded in questioning obedience. Romanoff pushed hard and fast a couple more times on the woman's chest as he watched, bemused.

"Loki, now," Romanoff ordered. Loki leaned over and breathed twice as instructed. The prone woman's chest rose slightly, then Romanoff resumed compressions.

A few minutes later, Rogers and a S.H.I.E.L.D agent arrived, followed by a paramedic, the latter carrying emergency equipment. Loki paid them no heed as he considered the young woman lying before him.

Her energy was skewed and her aura was full of static and discord, this he had sensed this since first laying eyes on her. Loki finally realized when his lips touched hers that she was suffering from a sudden and drastic withdrawal from the veiled realm. _This is no ordinary human_, he thought. He unexpectedly felt inclined to help the fellow magic user, and so he placed his hands over her head, pressing two fingers on her temple on both sides. Loki then tried to fill her void with his own energy. Unfortunately, his attempted transference either had no effect, or she was too weak... or he was too weak.

Romanoff was motioning for the EMT, giving him a rundown of the woman's apparent condition. The S.H.I.E.L.D. agent had remained standing off to the side; he listened to what the Black Widow said and afterwards took off running back in the direction he came. As the paramedic came forward with a syringe in his hand, Loki looked up and frowned. "Stop, you won't be able to help her with that," he commanded, but the paramedic ignored him. "Tell your fool to stand back," he shouted to Romanoff. She opened her mouth to protest, but then snapped it shut. The Black Widow had apparently decided to let an enemy help the woman, as the look in her eyes showed that she still didn't trust him fully. She nodded at the EMT to stand down; however, he only did so after she forcibly held him at bay by the arm.

Satisfied, Loki leaned over the unconscious woman's face again, tilting her chin back as he did before. Once again, he filled her lips with his breath, but this time he focused on saturating her with his energy instead of just the air from his lungs.

It worked.

* * *

§

* * *

The anticipation that began recently was now over, and Sydney tried to hold on to her complicated existence in the colorful and musical world as long as she could. Reality was sinking in, but she didn't want to lose the beauty that surrounded her. After all, she knew that she was looking at magic itself... _and who would ever want to give that up?_

So when the vague existence started to fade away as she felt someone's lips on her own, she resisted. At first because she could neither hear the music she had learned to love nor feel the magic which had been her companion for so long. Then... because a stranger was _kissing_ her.

_What the hell?_

This time Sydney_ knew_ that she was alive, since there was far too much pain for anything else to be true and she could _feel_ the presence of someone with powerful magic above her mouth. Then without warning, pain was all she could feel as the pressure left her lips, and she almost cried at the loss of contact. "Tell your healer to cease his preparations, she lives," she heard the man next to her, the one who kissed her, say with a slight British accent.

Sydney was confused; the one thought repeating in her mind was _what is happening_? It didn't matter, she was alive. She was alive! "I thought this was my famous sleep. I'm so glad I was wrong," she said; her voice felt like sandpaper on her throat. Sydney tried to smile, but the muscles of her cheeks were on fire from the effort of the few words she had uttered.

"What did she say?" a woman on her other side said.

Someone next to the woman was taking her pulse. She heard the voice of a much younger man, "Ma'am, can you hear me? Are you okay?" Sydney nodded, just slightly, in response. "What's your name?"

"Sydney," she croaked. "Sydney Bergström."

"Okay, Sydney. Do you know where you are?"

Sydney opened her eyes, looking around through tiny slits in confusion. Everything was blurry and far too bright. She nodded that she did not know where she was and closed her eyes again.

The younger man next to the woman must have been a nurse or paramedic, because she felt him put a blood pressure cuff on her arm. "That's okay. Do you know what year it is?" he asked.

"1996."

"Did she say 1996?" another voice near her feet asked.

Sydney felt a pen light being shined into her eyes as the paramedic forced open her eyelids. She tried to protest, but ended up coughing instead.

"What year do you think it is, Sydney?"

"1996," she said less confidently. Sydney heard someone make a concerned huff. She was able to open her eyes again, but couldn't read or even see their expressions.

"How many fingers am I holding up?" It was definitely an EMT asking these questions; Sydney looked toward the direction of his voice and could make out a large patch on the chest pocket of his uniform now. It was an eagle with the word "MEDIC" stitched in large, friendly letters over the body and wings of the bird.[12] Tears formed at the strain it took for her to read it.

"The lady is becoming increasingly distressed with these questions," the first man asked. _That isn't a British accent_, Sydney thought, but she couldn't place it. The strange dialect only added to the list of things that she didn't understand.

"What... what year is it?" Sydney asked. "How did I get here!?"

Silence.

"We need to take her to quarantine," the voice at her feet finally said.

_Quarantine? _"No," Sydney yelled, or as close as she could manage with her scratchy throat. She tried to sit up, but the pain to lift herself was so much worse than when she tried to simply smile earlier. She winced at the pain in her arm and shoulders. "Please," she whispered, "where am I?"

"You are two stories underground in one of the storage bay hangers at S.H.I.E.L.D. Central Campus in New York City," said the woman. Her voice wasn't exactly kind, but her tone seemed much gentler. Sydney looked at her, but the only thing she could get her eyes to focus on was the woman's red hair. It made the featureless blur of the woman's pale face appear as if it was on fire.

"New York?" Sydney asked.

"Yes, and it is 2014."

Sydney could sense that the red-headed woman was telling the truth, and whatever else the woman was now saying became static and drowned away. The situation was too much to handle, and Sydney cried out in fear and anguish as everything around her started getting dark. The last thing she knew before finally passing out was the arms of the stranger, the one with the strange accent, holding her and the soft rich smell of his leather clad shoulders.

* * *

§

* * *

[10] **_Vot der'mo_ (Вот дерьмо) is Russian (according to Google Translate) for _Oh crap_.**

[11] **Lyrics from ****_Stayin' Alive_****, a song by the Bee Gees from the ****_Saturday Night Fever_**** motion picture soundtrack (which I don't own either). When I was taught CPR by my company's safety director, he told us that most people never learned how fast and how hard to do chest compressions. He told us to do them to the beat of ****_Stayin'Alive_****, and I always thought that would be a very useful tidbit to share.**

[12] **Large, friendly letters...that's right... _Don't Panic_. LOL.**


	8. Health is the real wealth

****Author's Note****

**Regarding the previous chapter, I realize that you probably wouldn't wake up someone who had been ****_frozen_**** with CPR. Please forgive me; it was an opening too easy to not take and became a necessary evil... So... ** **_Let it go, let it go. Turn away and slam the door! _**

**Numbers in [brackets] denote footnotes, which you can find at the bottom of the chapter. Nothing from the Marvel universe is mine. I also don't own Coca-Cola, Apple, or anything else you recognize... but you already knew that... _didn't you_?  
**

**~ Refictionista, August 8, 2014**

* * *

§ **Chapter VII **§  
health is the real wealth

* * *

It was an annoying beep that woke her. Just as blissful silence had lasted for _almost_ enough time so that her mind might finally start to drift off enough for her to go back to sleep, the incessant noise would jolt and shake at her consciousness.

Beep.

_Ugh... what the? Who cares... it's gone. Silence. Almost back asleep._

Beep.

_Shut up, go away... Ahh... Silence. Almost asleep._

Beep.

_Damn it. Fine. I'm awake. Happy now?_

Beep.

Sydney opened her eyes. She was in a hospital room, but she already knew that. All hospitals smelled the same, like hand sanitizer, cheap plastic, and illness. Her bed was in a semi-reclined position and she felt surprisingly soft fabric underneath her. She blinked, looking around the entirely too bright room with slightly hazy vision. Alone, she was alone. The sound of low voices carried in from the hallway outside an open door, but nothing audible enough to understand. She discovered that the beeping came from a piece of equipment near the rear of her bed. There was a screen on the monitor showing a flashing exclamation point in a yellow triangle, but she had no idea what the alarm meant or if it was important.

When she had twisted to see the sadistic source what was making that annoying noise, she became aware of the pain in her chest. It was as if an elephant was sitting there. _Did she have broken ribs?_ Sydney resolved not to move her upper torso again, until she heard the next beep and gave an involuntary cringe. _Ouch_.

With just the tips of her fingers showing, both her hands were bound in bandages. They hurt too. She had one unhappy finger in the constant mild vice grip of an oximeter. Sydney yanked that off, but it made no difference to the evil beeping machine behind her. Looking down at her hospital gown, this one in a lovely shade of avocado puke, she noticed more leads going down and attached to various positions on her chest, possibly attached even further below. She was about to start tearing those off as well, picking experimentally at the edge of the adhesive on one electrode, when she heard the sound of someone clearing their throat.

"You probably shouldn't do that, miss," a masculine voice said off to her left.

Embarrassed, Sydney guiltily withdrew her hand from the lead near her clavicle as if she had been caught doing something wrong. She was not alone. Looking over with care not to move too much, she noticed that the curtain next to her bed had almost hidden a man sitting in an uncomfortable looking chair. If he had been leaning back earlier when she had first looked around the room, then she wouldn't have noticed him. Well, she might have possibly noticed his feet if she had considered glancing down at the floor, but she hadn't.

Her eyesight was still blurry, but if she focused enough, then she was able to make out more distinct details before the strain was too much after a couple minutes of effort. The man was clean shaven, easily over six feet tall, and had a muscular build clearly defined through several layers of clothing. His dark blonde hair was slicked back, in a style that made him somehow look older than he likely was... Mid to late twenties was Sydney's guess. He watched her expectantly, as if waiting for her to say something. Sydney, now a bit peeved at feeling reprimanded, folded her arms over her chest gingerly. She didn't recognize him, but she had the feeling he had been sitting there for a while. The thought was unnerving.

"Why are you here?" she finally said.

He looked surprised. "Excuse me," he replied in confusion.

"Why are you here?" she said again slowly, enunciating each word with precision as if he might have difficulty understanding English.

"I'm... My name is Steve. Steve Rogers. I work here, in a way. Well, I don't actually work _here_, in the hospital. You weren't... doing too well earlier, and now you're in a hospital."

"Okay, Steve," Sydney said tolerantly. "I realize I'm in a hospital, likely because something was or is wrong with me. I'm certainly in enough pain for something to be wrong, that's for sure." She nodded to her other side. "Two empty bags and now _that_ IV bag is nearly as well. Based on my guess at the flow rate of the drip, and the fact that I stink," she wrinkled her nose, "I've been here a while. However, I'm not interested in any of that right now. Who you are, what is wrong with me, and where I am is less important to me at this moment than why _you_ are sitting in a chair next to my hospital bed, instead of my aunt or a friend."

"Oh," he said.

"Oh," she echoed.

He took in a deep breath, and Sydney could almost see his mind working out what to say to her. Finally, he said, "You were in stasis for a long time. I was in a... similar situation. I thought I could help you... once you woke up, again."

A faint memory came trickling forward. In the blink of an eye, the flashback grew clear and became something dark and horrifying. The knowledge strangling her, air was sucked out of her lungs making her feel nauseous. She hugged her arms over herself tightly; she didn't feel the pain that caused. "So it's true, what that red-headed woman said?" she whispered. "Is it really 2014?"

"Yes," he said simply but with sympathy.

"Eighteen years?"

Steve didn't respond, but the pitying look on his face confirmed his answer.

"My aunt, my great-aunt, she's my only family. Her name is Blanche Bergström... she was already elderly back in..." something inside her broke. Sydney's blurred vision disappeared completely as she started to cry.

Her tears seemed to make Steve uncomfortable; she could hear him squirming in his seat. "I'm sorry," he said. She heard him get up and walk across the room, then the sound of sink's tap flowing.

_Water._

He came back to her side, and she felt a small plastic cup pressed into her hands. "Here," he said, "the nurse said if you woke up, then you could have a drink. Just sip it slowly."

Sydney held the cup awkwardly with her bandaged hands and took a small sip gratefully. The water tasted better than any she ever remembered drinking, and it made her feel much better, "Thank you." She tried to give a grateful smile, but the slight twitch she forced on the corners of her mouth didn't reach her eyes. He sat back down, pulling the chair closer to her bed. _Strange that he hasn't gone to get a nurse or a doctor_, thought Sydney.

"What is _famous sleep_?" he asked several minutes later, after her breathing had calmed.

"Famous sleep?" Sydney repeated.

"That's what you said when you woke up. That you were glad you were wrong; that this wasn't your famous sleep."

Sydney's brows knitted together and she gave Steve a questioning look. Then after a moment, realization swept over her face. "Oh, that... it was just poetic imagery," she said simply. "I don't know why I said it instead of speaking plainly." Her voice trailed off and she closed her eyes.

"What did it mean?" Steve asked patiently after Sydney didn't elaborate. He wondered if she had fallen asleep, but then he noticed her index finger tapping lightly in a measured rhythm on her arm.

She stopped and blinked a few times. Looking at him, she said,

"A long, long sleep, a famous sleep  
That makes no show for dawn  
By stretch of limb or stir of lid,  
An independent one.

Was ever idleness like this?_  
_Within a hut of stone  
To bask the centuries away  
Nor once look up for noon?" [13]

"Pretty," Steve said after it was obvious that she was finished.

"Emily Dickinson," Sydney elaborated absently, "an American poetess. My aunt's favorite." Her eyes watered again, but new tears failed to run down her cheeks this time.

"You thought you were dead," Steve said, his tone indicating neither a statement nor a question.

Sydney shook her head no. "I didn't think I was dead," she hesitated, "but I didn't think I was alive either. I had quite a bit of time to consider my situation." No longer interested in the conversation, she stared at her hands.

Fortunately, he didn't ask her to explain. Not that she would have.

"I'm going to go get a nurse," he said instead.

Sydney didn't acknowledge him, staring down with a blank and vacant expression. She heard him leave.

_Enough_, thought Sydney. She took another sip of water, a larger one this time. Adam's ale, pure water, was her strongest element and she could channel more energy from it than any other. She could focus on her pelagic magic better than anyone else she knew. The tap water wasn't pure, just enough so that she could feel it slowly restoring her energy, the magic's lambent ripples gracefully shimmering from her core. Each curling tendril grew stronger. It would take a while, but soon the water would make the healing almost palatable.

Beep.

_Damn it._

* * *

Early in the morning on the next day, the doctor came by to see her. The nurse on duty let her know an hour ago that he would make his rounds soon, so he was expected. He was a small, dark skinned man in his fifties with bored looking eyes. "Good morning, I'm Dr. Maalouf," he said, scrolling through something on his tablet computer. "How is the now-awake patient doing today?" he asked.

"The patient is still in bed and requesting an explanation. How is the dismissive doctor?" she said, the sarcasm sounding almost like pouting.

He looked up, amused with a new twinkle in his eyes. He smiled, "Quite right." He held out a hand, and she took it. Her bandages had been removed, but he either hadn't known her hands had been seriously burned or was trying not to look foolish at being misinformed. She was surprised that the slightly built man had such a firm grip. After shaking and exchanging a few pleasantries, he then leaned over to a dispenser on the wall next to her bed. An antiseptic smelling mist spraying out and coating his hands. He then disinfected them thoroughly with the hand sanitizer, wringing his hands in clipped thorough movements. If she hadn't been in a hospital, then she might have felt insulted. Instead, she appreciated the doctor's cleanliness. Perhaps he hadn't meant to be so rudely anti-social, just careful about asepsis.

"I'm glad your hands healed so quickly, and I think this is a good sign for the rest of your recovery. We need to run some more tests now that you're awake, but based on what we diagnosed while you were sleeping, I'm confident that in two or three days you'll be ready to stand and perhaps even support your own weight. Once we know that you can safely get out of bed, I'm going to arrange for a physical therapist to meet with you. As for any further explanation, you will have to wait for the director."

_Not bloody likely_, thought Sydney.

She turned back the top of the blanket and sheets on her bed, and then swung her bare legs off the edge of the mattress smoothly. The doctor gasped and blinked as she hopped down to the floor without wavering. The cold from floor seeped through her socks, and she rolled up and down a few times on the balls of her feet. She maneuvered her IV drip and stand around a side table, then walked towards where he was standing on the other side of her bed. There was no hesitation in her sure steps. She had walked confidently, like she owned the place. Belatedly, she used her other hand to close the indecently open back of her hospital gown.

Thinking this stance made her less formidable, she dropped the back of her gown and let go of the IV stand. Crossing her arms over her chest and squaring her shoulders, she stretched to her full height. Sydney raised her chin, and looked down to give the older man a pointed look. His eyes were wide and incredulous.

"I'm satisfied at present that I'm able to stand and support my own weight," she stated. "Wouldn't you agree, Dr. Maalouf?"

He might have nodded or his chin might have dropped slightly, Sydney wasn't sure which.

"Captain Rogers was here earlier and told me the same thing. However," she said, waiving a hand about emphatically, "I'm no longer feeling patient, and I mean that in both senses of the word. Perhaps, we can arrange for me to go and see the director."

"I see, well... I believe I need to make a phone call," he said, shaking his head and typing a few things onto his tablet.

"Yes, please do. I would truly appreciate that," she smiled sweetly, jumping back up on the bed and swinging her feet hard enough for the socks to slouch around her ankles.

The once proud doctor then scurried out the room, stopping at the door to glance over his shoulder as if expecting to see her to do something else utterly impossible.

Sydney couldn't hold back grinning like a Cheshire cat at him and gave the doctor a little wave as he walked away.

* * *

§

* * *

Dr. Jane Foster stared at Thor from the conference call screen with a wistful look on her face, but fortunately ended the connection before Fury could roll his eye. He really didn't see what the big deal was; the astrophysicist would be there and see her alien boyfriend again when he, and his brother, used the Tesseract tomorrow to return to Asgard. Unless she dropped her project to go to Avenger Tower. Plus, for crying out loud, the two asshats would be back in a week.

Maria Hill nodded once more to Fury before severing her connection with him as well. They would need to speak again later, but not until after she received an updated medical report on the Bergström girl. She had supposedly woken up yesterday after only three days of being placed in an induced coma, which was unexpected... to say the very least.

Her being unfrozen _period _was unexpected.

Director Fury watched Loki as he left his office, following his brother. The so called god hadn't been in S.H.I.E.L.D. custody for two weeks before the incident with Sydney Bergström. He wasn't sorry to see the bastard leave, even if it was only for one week.

Even if he had, apparently, saved a girl's life.

Closing the reports on Loki's behavior from the previous meeting, Fury got ready to deal with his next headache. He had several decisions to make before Hill called back.

_Bergström, Sydney G. - Level 7 Access Only_. _Restricted sub-files - Level 9 Access Only_. He pulled all of her files up on his screen, but Fury already knew everything there. The attached photo was from her Colorado state driver's license. Her eyes were wide and she was leaning forward with her shoulders pulled back, like she was having a great time. He felt a twinge of regret, remembering the young girl he met briefly so many years ago.

Hesitating, Fury looked out of his window for a few moments before pulling up her aunt's file. _Bergström, Blanche D. - Level 7 Access Only_. The old woman was the bane of his existence all those years ago, and now she was back to haunt him. If Fury didn't know any better, he would have sworn that the photo from her file was glaring at him. Scowling, he turned to the outside window again and ran a hand absently over his bald head.

Below, Fury could see the two Asgardians were on the flight deck about to leave the helicarrier. Loki turned back, as Thor stood swinging Mjölnir above his head. Fury suspected that the trickster god had turned back to look directly at him. Thor grabbed Loki by the arm, who nodded. Lightning and thunder boomed from the clouds overhead, and then the two were gone. They would soon be on land; Fury had an unpleasant vision of a weeping Jane Foster. Sometimes, the brilliant woman was a force with which to be reckoned, but then others, like when Thor left without her to return to Asgard...

Enough of this grade school bullshit.

All excuses of procrastination gone, Fury turned back to the screens, intent getting back to work.

_Project S.I.R.E.N. - Level 8 Access Only_. Fury regarded the file on this screen with a soulful eye. He still believed in heroes. He still believed the world needed more of them.

* * *

§

* * *

Yesterday, Sydney had noticed the solitary stoic guard, who had been standing outside her room since before she woke up. Now there were three of them... Well, three that she _knew_ were out there. The additional men had arrived shortly after the doctor left.

The armed men gave a subtle yet distinct impression that she was not allowed to leave this room. Which she found increasingly annoying as her boredom grew.

Later that morning, Steve came back for a visit. "Hi," he said, knocking on the open door.

She was so grateful to have someone visit and break the monotony, that she almost jumped out of the bed to hug him. Almost. She wanted to talk to someone, anyone really, but she wasn't desperate enough for attention to act like a loon. Yet. So after the briefest moment of maintaining a placid facade, she greeted him back, "Hello, Steve." She glanced at the paper sack in his hands. "What's in the bag?"

He grinned and started taking out several different soda cans, all chilled with condensation dripping down their aluminum sides. "I asked a friend what she ate and or drank back when she was a kid... I mean young... er... your age," he blushed. "She said that she was addicted to soda in high school. Well, Diet Coke is what Ms. Potts said, but I didn't want to assume that you were on a..."

Sydney had already snatched the Diet Coke and popped the tab, greedily guzzling down the carbonated beverage in huge gulps. He laughed and picked out a root beer for himself, his favorite. It was somewhat similar to the sarsaparilla Steve remembered from his childhood, but he drank it much more slowly than Sydney. She seemed to be in a race with herself.

After finishing the entire can, Sydney smiled with a satisfied sigh, careful to not let out the unladylike burp that rumbled in her belly. "I'm no longer in high school. I graduated years, as in years _before I was frozen_, ago," she said.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to imply anything. Honest. Maybe you just look really young since you're in a hospital bed."

Sydney almost replied to clarify what she had meant, but then apparently changed her mind and closed her mouth firmly. She wasn't ready for _that_ discussion yet.

"Can I get you anything else, maybe more Diet Coke?" he asked politely with a small smile, reaching again for the paper sack he had set on the floor. So far, he was the only person who went out of his way to be nice to her. Under normal circumstances, she would develop a crush and gush like a teenage girl, which she actually was, when a cute guy came around to visit like this. Instead, he reminded Sydney of her grandfather or a grandfatherly older brother. A feeling that made sense once he had explained that he was frozen himself for almost 70 years. They were both fish out of time, hence his repeated visits to her room bearing gifts of soda and_... __holy halitosis_... was that a toothbrush?

He put the toothbrush and a travel-sized tube of paste next to the sodas. And then, bless him, dental floss. Captain Steve Rogers wasn't just a soldier and a gentleman, he was an absolute angel.

"Oh wow, thanks! Seriously, my teeth thank you down to their roots." Great, _now_ she was gushing... over a frakin' toothbrush of all things. She smiled, forgoing the urge to immediately leave Steve standing there alone by himself and rush into the bathroom to clean her mouth. _Play nice, Sydney. __What had he been saying before she noticing the toothbrush... oh, right. _"Well, actually now that you mentioned it... could you please help me with that?" Sydney said pointing to the side table.

She had asked the nurse for a magazine, but the woman had come back hours later to briskly drop off a thin tablet computer. Similarly, Sydney supposed, to what the doctor had been using. It sat unused next to her glass of water. Sydney scowled at it.

"It apparently has magazines and books to read, but the nurse didn't bother explaining how to use it."

He picked it up, noticing the apple-shaped logo on the back. "It's called an iPad," he said.

"She said that too, but the knowing the name still doesn't explain to me how it works," she said, neglecting to mention she was afraid of breaking it.

Steve nodded sympathetically, knowing too well the feeling of being lost when behind on the technology of the future. He showed her the iPad's Newsstand app and how to purchase magazines; the device came set up with sufficient credit to likely buy every magazine in the store. However, she was blocked with an annoying security restriction from purchasing quite a few of them. "Why on earth did they block _Beauty_?"[14] she asked, not expecting nor receiving an answer. She finally settled on a monthly travel publication that she recognized. Somewhat boring, but better than nothing. She put a pillow in her lap and carefully placed the tablet in the middle, so that it wouldn't get damaged now that she was finally using it.

"Listen," Steve said, "I came here for another reason." He waited patiently for her to look up from the iPad. "Director Fury wants to see you, this afternoon. The guards outside and I will escort you to him when you want to go."

_Thank the goddess_, thought Sydney. _I'm finally getting out of this room_. She tossed the iPad without a second thought back on the side table.

"Great, let's bounce! I'll just go brush my teeth... Oh, wait... First, can I get some actual clothes?" she asked, looking down sheepishly at her hospital gown and socks. "And some shoes? Please."

* * *

§

* * *

[13] **_A long long sleep, a famous sleep_**** is another poem by Emily Dickinson. ****For many of us, our most famous day will be the one where we don't wake up. Bouquets of flowers will show up at your home. There will be sympathetic condolences posted on your spouse's Facebook wall. Friends will reminiscence about your collection of swan figurines and love of needlework. Co-workers will go to lunch to talk about nothing but you and how much you will be missed. The first line ****is a 'dead' giveaway as to the theme.**

[14]** Based in New York City, _Beauty Magazine_ featured articles about romance and beauty. The love goddess of the Olympian pantheon, Aphrodite Ourania (Venus), was editor of the magazine. While on Earth, she adopted the alias Vikki Starr, although everyone mostly referred to her as Venus. _I have a couple of spots on my outline that could be filled with Olympian characters, and I love mixing up the Marvel universes... Maybe you'll see them in later chapters, though this isn't a teaser on my part, as I haven't actually decided whether or not to do that yet._ :)**


	9. A woman with nothing to wear

**Author's Note  
**

**FYI, I have gone back to previous chapters and renamed my OC, Sydney. Her surname is now Bergström, not Bergman. **Bergström** is derived from the Swedish words for "mountain" _berg_ and "stream" _ström_, whereas Bergman basically meant _mountain man_... so... um... no. **

**I'm persnickety like that.  
**

****Numbers in [brackets] denote footnotes, which you can find at the bottom of this chapter.** Nothing in the Marvel universe is mine. I also don't own anything else that you recognize.  
**

**~ Refictionista, August 15, 2014**

* * *

§ **Chapter VIII **§  
a woman with nothing to wear

* * *

The Tesseract, quite simply, was the doorknob to the gates that travel through space and time. Well, at least this was one of its many functions. It was, quite possibly, the most powerful jewel of Odin's treasure room of relics. As one of the six Infinity Stones, it had existed before the universe was even created and possessed unique capabilities that were enhanced and altered by various civilizations through the eons. To an observant human eye, the Tesseract appeared to be a four-dimensional hypercube; this is a four-dimensional analog of a cube, just as a three-dimensional cube is to a square. Mortals could occasionally see these brief glimpses beyond the three-dimensional aspects of the Tesseract; however, without true effort or real understanding, it usually appeared to humans as a simple blue cube which shimmered with electricity and glittering vapors.

About a millennia ago, the Asgardians lost the cube in the realm of Midgard during their war with the Jötuns. These battles may have cost Odin his right eye and the loss of the Tesseract, but at the time the Asgardians had prevented the Frost Giants' invasion throughout the Nine Realms. As such, these battles were proclaimed glorious victories, yet Odin and his warriors ceased visiting Earth afterwards. Why the All-father had not ordered his men to return and search all of Midgard until they found the lost Infinity Stone, Loki would never know. Equally unbeknownst to him was how it was then hidden by Odin's loyal Midgardian worshipers, only to be found centuries later in a box hidden inside a sculptured mural of the world tree, Yggdrasil, within a Viking ruin.

A powerful Midgardian horde, known as the Nazis of Axis, had made this discovery during World War II, and they had tried to use the power of the Tesseract to create weapons against all others on the planet. The ultimately successful attempt by an opposing group of mortals, known as the Allies, to stop this weapon had directly led to Captain America's nearly 70 frozen years at the bottom of the Arctic Ocean. While searching for their lost comrade, the Tesseract was recovered by Howard Stark, father of the infuriating Tony Stark, the arrogant Man of Iron.

Many decades later, S.H.I.E.L.D., believing it to be a powerful energy source, recruited Professor Eric Selvig to study the cube. Loki had already known of Dr. Selvig before his involvement with S.H.I.E.L.D.'s Tesseract research, as he was the academic mentor of the waterish Dr. Jane Foster, the mortal love of his brother. As a matter of fact, it was Loki's subsequent observations of Drs. Selvig and Foster after their involvement with Thor, which led to Loki's, and subsequently Thanos', knowledge of the Tesseract.

Thor's lady was very beautiful, Loki would admit this. She was also very intelligent... for a human of course; Loki would disagree with anyone who said otherwise. So... Her allure and genius were never in question, and it wasn't even that Lady Jane became openly hostile in Loki's presence. Her animosity was perfectly reasonable considering his recent attempt to retrieve the Tesseract for Thanos and conquer her world. It was just that she _bored_ him. Lady Jane interested Loki in much the same way that a plain piece of toast didn't.

Loki hated boredom.

Taking more time than proper, Thor and Jane shared tearful goodbyes and overly prolonged kisses, for they would not see each other for a sennight. Seven days, a period of time mortals referred to as a week. _An apt homonym if ever there was one_, thought Loki.

When Loki had begun to question the meaning of his immortality and how, possibly for decades, he would have to endure this same scene every three weeks, his brother placed one last gentle kiss atop the hand of his beloved. He then wiped a tear from her cheek and backed away from her with the Tesseract in his hands.

Dr. Foster then began crying in the open arms of her buxom minion, a brash young woman with dark-rimmed glasses whose name escaped Loki's memory, if he ever knew it. Together, they began backing away from where the two princes now stood alone.

As he readied the cube for their journey, an unusually pensive Thor noticed Loki's look of weariness. "Did you truly feel you had to wait for too long while I bid my lady farewell, brother?"

"Relativity," said Loki.

"Though I recognize this word, relativity, your response is beyond my ken," Thor said, a deep vertical line of confusion formed between his eyebrows.

"Put your hand on a hot stove for a minute, and it seems like an hour. Sit with a pretty girl for an hour, and it seems like a minute. That's relativity."

"What wise counsel!" exclaimed Thor. "My lady speaks oft of the Theory of Relativity." He grinned, glancing back at the mortal woman. She had finally stopped sobbing and smiled back in return. "Your explanation brings fresh understanding to her Midgardian science; I shall have to remember that."

"She would be impressed, but not for reasons you might think. It is a well-known saying from Midgard's most influential scientist on that very theory... Though that particular mortal is long dead," Loki added instinctively, as he couldn't pass on the opportunity to subtly remind Thor of the brevity of human lifespans. Regretting the impulse to remind him of his lady's frailty, Loki gave Thor a rare indulgent look and quickly sought to change Thor's train of thought, "It is possible that she would be pleased that you can quote the forerunner in her field of study, but she would never believe you to be the originator of the saying."

"Regardless, I shall tell her of it and how my introduction to the wise man's words came from you," Thor said, motioning for Loki to place a hand on the other side of the Tesseract, while clasping Loki's other arm.

_Then she will know I compared her time with you to the placing of my hand on a hot stove_, thought Loki as the portal to Asgard opened and swallowed them both.

* * *

§

* * *

Sydney had showered. Really showered. She had needed three cycles of lather, rinse, repeat for her hair to feel clean once again. Though, even with her magic and all that shampooing and conditioning, it still didn't feel healthy. When she had first woken up, the strands of her previously silky blonde mane had instead felt like crisp, dry pieces of bleached straw. The warm honey blonde color replaced by a sickly pale shade. Even worse, it had a faint chemical smell and had also crackled when she first tried to brush it.

Discovering that had almost brought her to tears. Sydney Bergström wasn't a vain twit, like many of the vapid girls her age she remembered, but her hair had been her one physical feature that stood out from the rest. Pride wasn't a virtue, of course, but certainly people must be allowed to at least have a little bit of it. Because with just that little bit of pride, she had loved transforming herself by twisting and braiding intricate styles, most of the time merely for fun. In return, her carefully styled locks had given her such confidence, which was unfortunately a trait she felt compelled to fake now.

Every action, each snippet of body language since opening her eyes in this hospital room had been carefully constructed to give her the look of confidence. _Fake it until you make it_, her best friend had once said.

_Eriko_. Sydney wondered why she had the feeling she had recently seen or had been near the high-spirited petite girl. _No, not a girl_. Eriko had been barely a few years older than Sydney when together they rented the old charming house in the foothills near Denver. Sydney tilted her head and calculated; Eriko would be forty-one now, a middle-aged woman, not a girl. She wondered if that guy, _what was his name_, ever had the courage to ask Eriko out; goodness, they could even be married now. "Who would have been the maid of honor instead of me?" asked Sydney petulantly to the bar of soap in her hands.

Enough with the reminiscing. She had been goofing off and daydreaming for at least the last five minutes.

Realizing any more steam in the bathroom might soon transform it into a sauna; she stepped out of the shower stall. Sydney might have been tempted to stay under the hot water for much longer had she not remembered that she would finally be leaving this hospital room. She sincerely hoped to not come back here either.

Wrapping herself in a towel, she then took a rag and wiped down the foggy mirror.

And nearly screamed.

"Hello, poppet," said Aunt Blanche from the exact spot in the mirror where her reflection _should_ have been. Then with a tolerant sigh of a parent telling a child to go bed, she said, "Please put that down before you hurt yourself."

Sydney blinked. In her hand, she had drawn together moisture from steamy air, shaped and then froze it; she was now holding a rather lethal looking dagger made of ice.

She carefully placed the icicle blade in the sink and ran hot water out of the tap over it. _How had she done that so quickly, without thinking_?

"Aunt Blanche?" It was a question.

"No, not quite. My name is Bessie Dunlop." [15]

Sydney nodded, her face falling only slightly. "You're a familiar, then?" she asked.

"I am. I have been with the women of your family for many, many generations. However, instead of endearing myself to one of your relatives after your aunt died, I chose instead to wait for you."

A warning bell rang in Sydney's mind. "How soon after my accident did she die?"

Her aunt's image hesitated and then said, "Thirty-six hours."

Perhaps it was because Sydney had already suspected something like this, no tears came. Her eyes didn't even water.

"If I am to be your familiar, will you accept my oath and pledge to serve and advise you?"

Sydney gave the reflection of her aunt one long last look. "Yes," she said.

The sweet loving face of Blanche Bergström shimmered like a heat wave and was replaced with Sydney's own in the mirror's reflection. Vile hair and all.

* * *

Back in her room, Sydney dressed in powder blue nurse's scrubs. She had been given a supportive cami, but wasn't wearing a bra. On her feet over the scratchy hospital socks were rubbery plastic clogs, and their ridiculously bright pink color would have clashed with anything. The nurse called the shoes _Crocs_, and they were hideous.

Even Grace Kelly couldn't have made them look good. This unfashionable outfit was likely what a patient in a mental hospital wore, and she briefly wondered if that was where she actually was.

A sad mop of brittle, nearly-platinum blonde locks hung limply next to her once softly rounded face. Sydney had wanted to pull it back, but worried about damaging her hair further. Her eyes were sunken and still sensitive to light, which made her squint most of the time. Her cheekbones now protruded so much she looked clownish, like someone wearing calaveras makeup to celebrate Dia de los Muertos.

Clowns dressed funny in a good way. This was not.

Something had to be done.

She ripped off the short sleeves of her top, tearing the fabric into strips and braiding them into a circlet. She used that to hold back her hair. She grabbed a black dry erase marker off the board near her door and went to work on the ugly clogs.

Sydney had almost finished coloring one of the shoes, when a lovely woman with strawberry blonde hair and a large smile knocked on the open door. She was tall and slim, wearing a grey dress that stopped just above her knees and her hair was draped back in a professional French twist. She had walked up with a smile on her face, followed by muscular man with almost no neck, who carried several large shopping bags.

The woman's smile fell. "My God, I knew it! They gave you absolutely nothing to wear," she said, staring with something close to a mild form of horror at the blackened shoe in Sydney's hands. The woman blinked and shook her head, "Oh, my manners. Hello. I'm Pepper Potts, a friend of Steve Rogers." She turned around, "Happy, please put the bags against the wall. Yes, right here. Thank you." The cheeky man gave Sydney a wink and left.

Sydney eyes widened as she tossed the shoe and hopped up, never having motioned to allow this woman in her room, but she didn't care. She gave the logos on the store bags a predatory look. "Sydney, Sydney Bergström. A pleasure to meet you, Ms. Potts. Please, please tell me you brought me decent clothes." It was hard to hide the hopeful pleading in her voice.

"Pepper," the woman insisted. "Yes, I called one of my personal shoppers and had her pick out some options for you. I was under the impression that you had gone through quite a lot, so I told her to find clothes easy to put on and comfortable enough for someone recovering from surgery," she said, noticing Sydney's lack of anything resembling injury. "I hope that's alright."

Sydney gave Pepper a grateful smile. "Anything would be better than scrubs and these... _shoes_."

"Crocs," Pepper said with a sneer. "We should burn them."

Sydney laughed.

"What _is_ that in your hair?"

"The sleeves of my shirt. I ripped them off and tore them up to make something to hold my hair back."

Pepper muttered something under her breathe and then said, "I swear. If Steve hadn't mentioned to me, _in passing_ mind you, that he asked the nurses to get you some clothes..." Her voice trailed off as she crinkled her brows.

"How did you know what sizes to get me?" Sydney asked, trying to change the subject. The conversation felt like it was getting uncomfortably close to the lack, or perhaps merely the short list, of people looking out for her.

Pepper looked up smiling again. "I have my ways."

Pepper pulled out a lacy pink demi-bra and matching panties. "I'm afraid my shopper only got the one underwire. The rest are mainly stretch cotton bras, for comfort." She looked questioningly at Sydney, who considered the lessened pain in her ribcage and then took the offered pink undergarments after thinking a moment. Pepper gave an approving nod, and then grabbed an eggplant colored pencil shirt and a crisp white button down blouse. "Here. Try these." She took a shoe box out from one of the bags and starting removing the papers and protective wrappers from some two-tone flats.

Once dressed in conservative business attire, Sydney peeked at the bathroom mirror and thought she looked like a shorter version of Pepper without heels. Not that Sydney was complaining, this was so much better than the Crocs-wearing, ripped-scrubs-garbed Rambo look-a-like she had been earlier. The reflection was hers alone; Bessie wasn't there to give an opinion.

Back in the room, Pepper stood with a couple of dresses and shirts over one arm and was going through a selection of accessories and jewelry. She looked up at Sydney and lifted the clothing she held. "That looks good on you. Would you like to try something else?"

"No, thank you. This is perfectly fine."

Pepper set down the unused garments. Then she picked up a turquoise statement necklace and matching earrings. "These would go perfectly with what you're wearing," she said, handing the pieces to Sydney.

Sydney nodded, accepting them. "Do you have anything to cover my hair? It's still a bit damaged, and I'd rather not pull it back in a ponytail."

Her new friend smiled and went to grab another bag. She came back with several scarves, a snood and a soft black beret.

They looked at the pile and then both went to grab the black beret together. Pepper laughed, "That was my choice, too." She helped Sydney loosely braid her fragile hair and tuck the end inside when Sydney put on the beret. Sydney thought looked almost normal. Her skin was too sensitive for any makeup, and so Pepper put the toiletries in the bathroom. Seeing the bag on the tiny counter made Sydney wonder if she was coming back to this room.

_Never mind, one step at a time_, thought Sydney. She looked human again, and the confidence that gave her meant that she wouldn't have to fake it that much more.

"Thank you, Pepper."

Pepper gave her a radiant smile. "You're welcome. I hope we see each other again sometime." All business, she took out her mobile phone, "I'll call Steve and let him know you're ready to go."

* * *

Without much conversation, Steve and Sydney rode in the back of a large black SUV through the streets of New York City, going to a nondescript looking office and warehouse building overlooking the Hudson River. When the vehicle came to a stop, an agent opened the door for Sydney. She hopped out, and Steve came around to join her.

Together, they went up the office steps and through a set of glass doors into what was a very small bland room with one large metal elevator. No lobby, no receptionist, no guard. Nothing but gray walls, cement floor and florescent lights.

"What is this place?" Sydney asked as Steve stepped up to the elevator.

"This is S.H.I.E.L.D. Central Campus," he paused. "Where we found you." He looked at critically at her, as if trying to measure her response.

She nodded and gave a shrug with one shoulder. Then Sydney felt something foreign, a strange sense of jamais vu. It wasn't the first time she'd had been in _this_ room with _this_ elevator ahead, but for whatever reason she couldn't remember it. This feeling, it was like meeting someone that you know you had met before, someone who had made a huge impact on your life, but who suddenly is a stranger. She felt scared for a second, like she was lost in a bad neighborhood. She looked around the room again.

"There's no elevator button," said Sydney.

"No need. The elevator will come once it is sent for us."

As if on cue, two sets of thick metal doors opened and the elevator was there for them. They stepped in, and Sydney again noticed the lack of buttons in the car. There was also no display or indication of the floors they passed either. Sydney sensed that they were traveling downward fast, so there must have been quite a few levels underground.

The doors opened to a utilitarian office. Guards lined the entrance area, but beyond that were cubicles and offices. They were met by an older woman impatiently tapping a stylus ono the side of a tablet. She was no nonsense and almost severe-looking, with hard square glasses and hair pulled back in a tight bun.

"Sydney Bergström?" she asked, not waiting for a response. "Director Fury is no longer available to see you; however, I am to take you to meet with the deputy director, Commander Hill." She gave Steve a stern look, "Captain Rogers, you need to report..."

"I know," Steve said in a voice that would have, should have, made anyone cringe and look away. Sydney sure did. The older woman didn't even blink. He turned to Sydney, "I'll see you soon, kid."

"Sure," said Sydney, but Steve had already stepped back into the elevator. _Where was he going_? She turned to the woman next to her.

"This way," she clipped. "I'm Margaret, by the way. You're to let me know if you need anything."

Margaret showed Sydney to an empty conference room. She walked over to one wall, pressed a piece of glass which turned out to be some sort of touch screen, and a large video display emerged behind the paneling. _How very James Bond_, thought Sydney.

The monitor flickered on, and a logo appeared on the screen. It was the same eagle she had been seeing ever since she woke up with the name "Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement and Logistics Division" encircling it.

Margaret then left the room. Alone, Sydney felt the unease from earlier seeping in around the edges of her mind. She decided to take one of the seats near the center of the table. She had just pulled it out, when the door opened again.

An athletic woman in her thirties or so wearing a jet black uniform strode into the conference room and held out her hand. "Hello, Miss Bergström. I'm Agent Hill. Our apologies for Director Fury not being able to make this briefing. Please, have a seat. We need to begin."

* * *

§

* * *

[15] **Bessie Dunlop was an actual _cunning woman_ accused of sorcery and witchcraft. She **claimed to have a familiar named Tom Reid, a former barony officer who died at the Battle of Pinkie some 30 years before her.** She was a midwife with an understanding of medicinal herbs; however, as this was a time of witchcraft hysteria**** in Scotland****, she was burnt at the stake in 1576. I thought it appropriate that she continue, as she had during her life, to help others in my story as a familiar herself.**


	10. Rage is a trickster

****Author's Note****

****Sections entirely in _italics_ denote flashbacks. Nothing from the Marvel universe is mine.****

****~ Refictionista, August 21, 2014****

* * *

§ **Chapter IX **§  
rage is a trickster

* * *

The meeting did not go as Sydney expected.

She sat, staring vacantly at the now blank video screen, quietly wringing the hem of her lightly starched shirt in her hands underneath the conference table. It took her a while to realize Agent Hill was speaking to her, and the effort to turn her head towards the deputy director was practically insurmountable. At first she didn't hear anything, as she merely saw the woman's lips moving. Then there were thick noises that were probably words, as if she was hearing Agent Hill talking to her underwater. She was reminded of a fish's gills opening and closing from the other side of an aquarium's glass.

When Sydney focused enough through the ringing in her ears to make out that Agent Hill was saying her aunt's name amidst the other garbled words, she dropped the hem of her now wrinkled white shirt made the conscious and intentional decision to _fucking lose it_.

There was a pitcher of water and some glasses on a tray in the center of the table. Sydney swiped one of the tumblers and threw it as hard as she could against the wall next to the screen. The glass shattered wonderfully into broken shards, the jagged pieces scattering over the floor in pleasing random patterns. Sydney smirked at the dings, dents and scratches on the previously pristine paneling.

_That. Felt. Good_.

She grabbed two more glasses and hurled them both in the same direction, one right after the other. _Swoosh_._ Crash_..._ Swoosh_._ Crash_. The sound of their smashing against the wall was absolutely glorious. She reached for another glass, only to find that Agent Hill had pulled the tray out of reach and away from her.

The murderous look Sydney gave the woman must have been effective, because Agent Hill tolerantly took off one glass off the tray and pushed it with an index finger slowly back across the table to Sydney. Then the agent withdrew her hand.

Sydney reached for the glass, picking it up with every intention that it would follow its siblings' fates... Only now her arm felt like it weighed a ton. The adrenaline that had been surging through her only seconds ago deflated to a pathetic sense of weariness when Sydney realized that the deputy director wasn't trying to stop her. _She's letting me throw a tantrum. I'm... I'm behaving like a child. _Sydney dropped the offered glass mindlessly, and it fell only an inch or so onto the table, rolling away towards Agent Hill as if trying to escape. Sydney's knees gave and she landed back in her chair with a loud thump.

Agent Hill picked the wayward glass up and filled it with water from the pitcher. This time, she walked around the table and handed the glass directly to Sydney. "Here. I'm told that water heals you," she urged.

That managed to reignite Sydney's ire. "There aren't enough cuss words in existence for me to use on you," she snapped, slapping the drink out of Hill's hand. It spilled out across the table.

"Easy now, Miss Bergström. Look I'm sorry about that little show back there, but we wanted to give you the big picture right away. We never thought it best to break it to you slowly."

"Break what? That the world has gone absolutely insane?" Horrified, Sydney felt tears forming and watering her eyes. _What Agent Hill just showed me_, thought Sydney, _what possible reason_...

"That we need you to become part of a bigger universe," said Hill. "We would like you to join a group of remarkable people to see if you can become something more. To see if you can work together when we need you to, to fight the battles that we never could. It is something we've wanted you to enlist in for a while, for almost twenty years."

Sydney looked up at her. She felt hollow again.

"Miss Bergström... Miss... Sydney, will you be okay?"

The forced politeness of Hill's tone only reinforced how far Sydney was from those who had once actually cared about _her_, not about what she could do. "Are you seriously trying to get me to join your world?" she whispered.

Deputy Hill looked at the young woman with indifference. "No," she said pointedly, "we're trying to save it."

* * *

§

* * *

_"What is it?" asked Sydney with wide eyes._

_"That, my dear, is one of the Apples of Eden," replied _Director Stoner.__

__Inside, the _large metallic case_ was lined completely with dark molded plastic. In the center sat a rubbery indentation that held a small golden orb. The 'apple' was etched all over its surface with fractal lines and decorations. No runes or text, but the lines themselves looked to have meaning. The etchings also glowed with a faint neon blue tint.__

__"As in Adam and Eve? And the _tree of knowledge of good and evil?_" said Sydney incredulously.__

__Director Stoner chuckled, "No, not quite. At least, I don't think so." He gave her another infuriating wink and leaned back in his chair, straightening his ridiculous red tie. "This is merely a piece of ancient technology that we don't understand."__

_Agent Fury was still standing at the door when Director Stoner motioned the agent to come over to him. He hurriedly whispered into Agent Fury's ear, who then left the room._

__Sydney was still leaning forward over the table to look inside the case at the orb. Her fingers__ itched_ to touch it, but something held her back. She cocked her head to the side, wondering if she was imagining that she could hear it humming. __The sound could have sworn she was hearing was absolutely mesmerizing._

_There was an electric tingle in the air, one that Sydney felt was vaguely familiar. Something between the soothing, healing of her aunt's pelagic magic and maybe one of Miss Dubois' stronger terrene spells. No, there was something different in this magic, like seeing a wolf in sheep's clothing. Trifling with a power like this would be a bad idea. A disastrously perilous idea. This was not to be touched. Her hand hovered above it, not making contact, of course, just aching to be near it. The temptation was there and it was strong. Too strong.  
_

_"Tell me, do you prefer _Miss or Ms. Bergström?"__

__Sydney blinked. She dragged her eyes off of the orb, shoved the case out of her way and looked the director square in the eye. "__Dr.__ _Bergström," she deadpanned.  
___

___Director Stoner frowned. "Excuse me?"___

___"The use of the doctor title in my field of study is merely a question of etiquette and is subjective. I just passed my dissertation defense; this means there is nothing left but paperwork to get my doctorate. You asked what I preferred. My answer is that I prefer ___Dr.___ __Bergström__."___

___He regarded her for nearly a whole minute before responding. "I see."___

___The frown didn't leave his face. Sydney got the distinct impression that he wasn't pleased with the idea of calling a nineteen year old by the title doctor, which is exactly why she asked him to do so. The fact that she was female could only further irritate a good ol' boy like this. She may have a PhD, but the spark of mischievousness inherent in all young people didn't evaporate because of a few extra letters behind their name. The question now was would he give her the respect of an adult or continue to treat her like a child.___

___"You called it one of the Apples of Eden," she asked and he nodded. "Why? What___ is_ it? Are there more?_"

_"Young lady," _hmm... child it is then_, "like I said earlier, this is an unknown and ancient technology. My colleagues and I have got the feeling you know either how it works or how to figure out how it works, and you're going to show some us just that."_

_"And if I don't?"_

_"That isn't an option."_

_"Not an option? _You said I wasn't a prisoner, just that I was here to look at something. I've seen it, and now I think I should go."__

__"As long as you take a longer look at it to help my research team, then you are not a prisoner."__

__"So my two choices are incarceration or involuntary servitude? Have I been charged with a crime?"__

__"No, my dear, not at all," the jovial smile was back with a look of feigned shock. "Why on earth would you think such a terrible thing? You are merely one of the few talented individuals with your rare expertise. Please, that is hardly criminal. We simply view you as an expert and require your services."__

__"Odd. The Thirteenth Amendment makes involuntary servitude illegal, except as punishment for a crime. What part of __that__ doesn't fit this situation?" Sydney pushed back from the table, but found Agent Fury now directly behind her, blocking her from going any further.  
__

__"Smart girl. Legally, we are defining you as a material witness, and therefore we have the right to hold you for the moment." He motioned to Agent Fury, who took out a pair of handcuffs. Sydney tried to get up, but the agent was far too fast and strong for her. She was quickly handcuffed to a loop attached on the side of the table.__

__"You can't do this!"__

__"I just did, Miss _____Bergström_____." Director Stoner was no longer smiling. "I have had enough with your family, up to_ _here_, and_ it is time I see some cooperation," he said gesturing then reaching into the metal case. He held up the orb and thrust it in front of Sydney's face, causing her to lean back. "You are going to help us figure out exactly what this is and what it does."__

__When Sydney realized he was placing the artifact on the table, she started struggling against the chains on her wrists. The panic closed in on her throat, making any speech or warnings come out in wordless cries. Agent Fury looked at her with curious eyes from under his dark curls, not understanding.__

__Aluminum table. Steel handcuffs.__

__Connected. She was connected. Sydney frantically yanked harder to free herself from the cuffs.  
__

__Oh Goddess, please save them.  
__

__Director Stoner looked between Sydney and Fury in exasperated confusion, and __set the orb down.____

Oh God.

* * *

§

* * *

Steve came by after Maria Hill had long been gone from the conference room. He had arrived with another man who stood at the doorway, hesitating.

"Hey, there. How's my girl?" Steve asked. Sydney looked over at him, but said nothing. "This is Dr. Bruce Banner," he said, gesturing to the other man. "Bruce, meet Sydney."

The doctor walked in and held out a hand. He was of medium build, with dark hair graying at the sides, and a kind smile. His movements seemed meek and somehow constrained. Sydney shook his hand mutely. "I read your dissertation years ago," he said. "Your work in cellular biology is still revolutionary and lead to several breakthroughs in my own research. It's truly an honor to meet you." The doctor smiled.

Sydney's ingrained manners took over. "Thank you. Pleasure to meet you as well, doctor. Dr. Banner? You were... mentioned... in the presentation I was just shown."

He chuckled and rolled his eyes. "I take it that the deputy director gave you an overview of some of the recent events," he said. Sydney nodded. "Did she mention any of my research or the serum used on Steve?" he asked.

"Only that you conducted experiments in gamma radiation, attempting to recreate the super soldier serum. She said it didn't go well."

"No, it didn't."

"Did someone die?"

"Not... quite. It's a long story," Bruce sighed and pulled out a chair to sit down. "Several years ago, I was at a government-owned chemical research facility in the Nevada. Top secret, very hush hush," he smiled at her and waggled an eyebrow for effect. "I was under the impression that we were working on radiation resistance for soldiers in combat situations," he sighed, "but that was a subterfuge to get me to work on the super soldier serum for the military. Not knowing all the facts and my own foolish haste lead to an accident in the lab."

"She gave me the impression that you were affected... drastically," she said, trying not to stare but unable to figure out what those changes possibly could be. His aura was split, but it was hard for Sydney to see the second one. _Is his extra aura hiding behind the first?_ she wondered. _If so, then what does that mean?_

The science of it was also mind-boggling to her. "The levels of gamma radiation from what I saw displayed should have been lethal. The ionization should have taken over the chemical reactions in your cells, irradiating them beyond repair. How are you still _you_?"

"Think of it as a Robert Louis Stevenson's _Strange Case_ split-personality thing brought about by sudden changes to my blood pressure and emotional state."

"You change," she said. It wasn't a question, but Bruce nodded. "So instead of Dr. Jekyll, it's Dr. Banner. Who then comes instead of Mr. Hyde?"

Bruce looked off to the side, debating what to say. "We call the other guy, the Hulk," Steve said softly. Bruce gave him a grateful look.

"The Hulk?"

"Yes," said Bruce. "Whenever I'm stressed, enraged or seriously injured, I transform into a nine foot tall... beast. Who is _green_, by the way. This other guy, the Hulk, possesses nearly unlimited strength, speed, and regenerative capabilities. He... smashes things." Bruce looked over to the shards of broken glass piled up against the far wall of the room and a corner of his lips curled upward.

Sydney followed Bruce's gaze. "Yeah, I had to smash things earlier," she said sheepishly. She frowned. "It kept me from doing something worse. I've always had... special abilities. I'm guessing you've heard that already, but they're different now because something has changed. Ever since I woke up I've felt something powerful and unfamiliar, and I don't know what that means. I threw the glasses across the room because I was afraid... I can't explain it, but I'm not sure of myself anymore because now I'm _scared_ of my abilities. I haven't had enough time to digest what has happened."

"You're among friends, Sydney," Steve said, gesturing to himself and Bruce. "There are several of us here who are special, just like you. So please, take a gander at..." Steve went to sit down in the other chair next to her, but then stood up quickly. "Golly! Why is this seat wet?"


	11. Racism cheapens the lives of us all

****Author's Note****

**Head's up: I'm going to change the name of this story. _The Prince and the Blue Stocking Beauty_ was always a working (i.e. temporary) title, and it was simply the first thing that popped into my head. I'll mention this again (and introduce the new name) right before I make the change in about two chapters.**

**Dialogue in both "_italics__ and quotations_" denote telepathic conversations. Numbers in [brackets] denote footnotes, which you can find at the bottom of the chapter. Nothing from the Marvel universe is mine.**

**~ Refictionista, September 5, 2014**

* * *

§ **Chapter X **§  
racism cheapens the lives of us all

* * *

Fully clothed in his well-worn armor, Loki collapsed face first on his bed at the newly christened Avenger Tower. He had been assigned quarters that were adjoining Thor's, but this was his first time in them. The pathetic Midgardian mattress flattened reprehensibly in protest of his nonhuman weight and it was almost too short for a god of his stature. He would have to ask Stark's disembodied entity that dwelled in the tower, _what was that spirit's name, __Jarvis?_, to procure him some bedding, some _proper_ bedding, that could hold up to his Asgardian body density and height.[16]

_No, not Asgardian... the body density of a half-sized Frost Giant of Jötunheimr_.

The thought was an unhappy reminder as usual, and Loki gratefully fell asleep within minutes. Unfortunately, it was a restless sleep with disturbing dreams, so he awoke not even two hours later, sweating and initially panicked at the unfamiliar surroundings. Rolling over and further damaging the springs on his mattress, he stared at the ceiling. For the first time since he was last in the Midgardian realm, he was alone to think and drown himself in his dark thoughts.

The solitude ended almost as quickly as Loki realized he had it.

"Brother!" Truthfully, Thor did not need to announce himself. A dead corpse could have heard the stomping in the hallway that passed for those footsteps.

_Good thing I am not overly fond of my thoughts at this time_, thought Loki, though he would never admit to Thor that he preferred his company to being on his own.

Loki stood up and created an illusion of a bored countenance to disguise the sunken look of his eyes. His splotchy and scratched armor gleamed as if just polished and not a strand of his dark hair was out of place. The rumbled sheets and lumpy bed was now neatly and smoothly made.

He was as he wished to be seen, though this minor use of magic was more draining than it should be.

"Come," said Loki.

Thor opened the door with a serious look on his face and stepped inside. "I have come to see how you fare," he said slowly.

"I find your concern flattering, but unnecessary," Loki answered, his brows narrowing. "Unless you are here to inform me of the latest annoying task to redeem myself in the eyes of these pathetic humans, just leave me be."

"Brother..."

"I am _not_ your brother."

Thor exhaled and looked beyond Loki's shoulder. They both stood there silently for a moment until Thor turned back to look back at his... _adopted_ brother.

"Loki, you do yourself no service by calling the humans pathetic. This prejudice will only make your sentence here more unbearable; you should use this time here for repose."

"The possibility of relaxation for me here is a pathetic dream, just as the humans are pathetic."

"Bro... Loki, the humans..."

"Are the humans weaker than us?" Loki interrupted.

"Yes, but..."

"Are their lifespans shorter? Are they frail? Prone to needless wars?"

"Yes..."

"Are they far too overpopulated? Unable to sustain their citizens with the resources needed? Do they over-pollute and spew so much hiilidioksidi into their atmosphere that their world cannot keep up with the hiili conversion and storage? Speaking of the climate of this realm, are their ice caps melting? Sea levels rising? Will there be heat waves, record droughts, severe storms, and even mass extinctions in the next century?"[17]

"That has nothing..."

"It does. They ignore reality at their own peril because their lives are too short to care about the damage they do. No other realm would destroy themselves this way. The other realms are superior, by far."

"Just because we are superior does not make them pathetic."

The sound of a throat being cleared came from the open doorway. Thor, who now looked embarrassed, and Loki turned to see Bruce Banner standing in the hallway. Steve Rogers was behind him with an expression that was halfway between confused and strained.

"He's right," said Bruce without entering.

"Of course I, Thor, am correct," said the golden god, ever so arrogant.

"No," said Bruce gesturing beyond him, "I meant Loki was right. I was also going to say you were wrong as well."

Now both Thor and Steve looked confused while Loki cautiously smirked at them all.

"Humans are pathetic," said Bruce. The two other Avengers inhaled sharply, and even Loki's eyes grew wide. He continued, "but that does not make you superior."

He then gestured to himself and Steve, "Beside the two of us and a small group of others, humans are physically weak. We are frail; just look at Tony, he can't survive without that arc reactor embedded in his chest. We don't live long enough to see the impact of our actions. Every reputable scientist agrees that there is an alarming upward trend in CO2 levels in our atmosphere. The average global temperature is rising and the next few generations are going to see some pretty devastating consequences for our environment. We fight senseless wars. For crying out loud, we believe in the concept mutually assured destruction. We _are_ pathetic."

"You may or may not believe me," said Loki, "but I meant no disrespect in pointing out your flaws. I see them as merely facts."

"I can accept that; however, flaws could be found on any individual or any race. No one race, under any circumstances, should be seen or thought of as being superior to another."

Loki turned to Thor. "_I_ didn't claim superiority over the human race, at least not a moment ago; however, I did claim that any other realm is superior to Midgard." Thor shifted uncomfortably. Loki stretched out his arms to indicate himself and continued, "I am a Jötunn, a Frost Giant from the realm of Jötunheimr. What you see before you," he waved his hand up and down again, "is a powerful illusion created by Odin the All-father to make me appear Asgardian. You see, the Asgard believe that Frost Giants are monsters, worthy of extermination." Thor cringed. "For this, the truth of my birth was hidden from me. When I found out that I am the monster parents tell their children about at night, I would have killed their entire race in revenge for being one of them... all because I thought Asgardians were superior to the Jötunn. Later, I made your kind kneel before me because I thought I was superior to you. I have realized that I was behaving like an Asgardian, and the hypocrisy sickens me." Thor looked away. "I understand now the folly such ignorance, and sadly that particular lesson came to me at a dear cost."

Thor looked back at Loki. "I've changed," he said softly.

"So have I," said Loki.

"Change is good. I've seen what happens when evil men try to kill an entire race," said Steve solemnly. He shook his head as if to disperse unpleasant memories and then looked at Thor. "Did you tell him?"

"No, I had not the chance as of yet."

"What?" asked Loki.

Steve turned to Loki, "Banner and I spoke with the director. I encouraged him to include you a _few_ select missions. It took some convincing, but he agreed to this in a provisional capacity."

"You will be under my observation," said Thor, "and that of Bruce Banner." Fury had made it clear that the only one he felt could incapacitate Loki was the Hulk. Thor had bristled at the implication he could not... and the implication that such an action would be needed. "What say you?"

"I care not. I am either in a cage or working as a common laborer. The prospect of serving under your constant eye is no more enticing than either of those. As I have not a choice, I have no opinion."

"Fury has someone else with your talents joining us," encouraged Bruce.

Steve nodded. "You may find interesting to work with someone else who has... do we really have to call it _magic_?"

Bruce nodded in agreement. Thor watched Loki expectantly, who merely rolled his eyes.

_Humans with comparatively sparse talents in magic have never been equal to sorcerers of any other realm_, thought Loki. Talent like his took study and practice beyond their capability. Loki hypothesized that humans simply didn't live long enough. Throughout all his time spent visiting Midgard, Loki had only ever seen a few wizen old men who possessed an inkling of skill, yet he had never known one of them who could command more than the most basic of parlor tricks. _Well... other than that one curious girl, perhaps._ He wasn't sure what to make of her.

* * *

Loki regarded the young woman sitting quietly at the other end of the table. She was young, at least young for a Midgardian, he judged. She might be dressed like a boy in those blue trousers that so many of her kind wore, but everything about her was feminine. The long and strangely pale hair she had arranged into a braid down her back. Though sunken and somewhat shallow in their sockets, her eyes were wide and bright, as if one could see them in the dark. They were rimmed with surprisingly long dark lashes. Most interesting of all, she had sorcery, powerful sorcery, in her eyes.

It was puzzling how a mere human could possibly possess so much magic. His level of talent and power in sorcery were the result years, _nay... __centuries_, of practice. Mortals simply did not live long enough to master such skill. A few of the more talented had been known to work together in covens to channel and combine their powers, but never anything close to resembling this. Loki was also quite sure that Sydney's aura was not the result of such external forces. _So what then_?

Curious, he probed the outer edges of her mind.

A decision that he regretted immediately.

The temperature in the room rapidly dropped and the ventilation crackled around them. The air was dry, and... _oh my_. There, suspended in the air scantly inches from his exposed neck, was an unnaturally sharp icicle. The threatening point glistened under the glare of the florescent lights.

"You're right, my lady, you're right. I shouldn't have done that. I apologize," Loki said, holding up his hands. He knew he could use his own magic to eliminate the ice dagger, but elected not to do so.

She was looking at him with a cutthroat expression, the icicle not wavering. "_Niciodată fără permisiunea mea!_"[18]

"_I beg forgiveness, my lady!_"

"Nu fără permisiunea!"

Fury and Barton's hands flew down to their sidearms. Agent Romanoff already had hers out and aimed at Loki.

Dr. Banner looked back and forth over everyone at the table, not understanding the sudden rise in aggressive behavior from those around him. "Perhaps, we could all just calm down."

Agent Romanoff responded by flipping off her weapon's safety.

Dr. Bergström blinked at the sound, finally noticing the increased hostility around her. "Stop everyone. I'm so... Please excuse my behavior. I did not mean to startle any of you," she looked back at Loki, and the hovering icicle in front of him dropped to the table. It broke into pieces that scattered like a break after a powerful pool shot. She flinched at the sound. "I reacted rashly to... a private conversation that became loud."

"On my honor, it will not happen again," Loki said to both Dr. Bergström and Director Fury with respectful nods. His gaze stopped at Black Widow and the barrel of the gun she held still pointed at him.

Embarrassed and contrite, Dr. Bergström stood up from the table. "If you will please excuse me, for the rest of the morning... I... I think it would be best for me to leave and get some rest." She stumbled slightly after pushing her chair back and left the room without another word, red faced and with clinched fists. Agent Romanoff lowered her gun but never took her eyes off Loki.

Thor inhaled deeply, closing his eyes. "Brother, what did you do?"

"I didn't... Nothing much... I was looking at the wench without any exterior impediments. She was surprisingly aware of my actions and... most displeased."

Thor started rubbing his temples with his hands forcefully. Captain Rogers, the only Avenger who had previously treated green-eyed god with any respect, looked like he wanted to leap across the table and beat the crap out of Loki. Barton and Romanoff were glaring, first at Loki and then at Stark, who was smiling.

"Seriously, you were imagining her naked?" Dr. Banner asked Loki incredulously. "What are you, fourteen?"

Loki didn't respond, allowing those present at the table to form their own conclusions, which he enhanced with a twitch of a smile at the corner of his mouth. He made sure to show the smallest hint of shame in his eyes to complete the effect.

Stark coughed to get everyone's attention back on him. "Wait, no, no. She was _pissed_. Unless a woman is a crazy soon-to-be ex-girlfriend, they don't nearly stab a guy for just imagining someone without clothes. That kind of behavior is only found in the overly attached stalker chicks who later end up forcing you to take out multiple restraining orders against them. _I speak from experience_. Now, if you actually _could_ see through..." Stark trailed off, his eyes grew wide, and then he started laughing. "Oh, man!" He thumped the table with both hands, "That is a trick I _want_ to learn."

Loki carefully tugged at the other side of his mouth with reluctance, finally breaking into an evil grin.

"Shut up, all of you. _You_," Fury pointed at Loki and then the door, "get the fuck out."

"Agreed. It is time to take our leave, Loki," Thor stood with his arms crossed. Loki rolled his eyes while shrugging a shoulder, then slowly rose from his chair. The two Asgardians left the conference room, Fury's eye watching them with unveiled exasperation the entire time. The others could hear Thor asking what was wrong with him as the door closed behind them.

The director sighed and leaned back in his chair. He was about to regain control of the meeting when Stark asked, "Hey Red, how many languages did you speak? Do you know what 'no fair, my perm is new' means?"

Agent Romanoff rolled her eyes, "Six, and your Romanian is atrocious, not that mine is much better. But... Uh... _not without permission_." She turned to glare at door Loki had just left through.

Stark laughed again, wiping a tear from his eye. "Yep. That's pretty much what I thought."

Director Fury growled, or at least something very much like a growl. He shoved his chair back and stormed towards the exit, stopping to say, "Contrary to your belief, you people are not the center of my universe. I have bigger problems to deal with... so grow the fuck up!" He paused, "We'll reconvene after each of you agrees to behave like professionals. _Adults_." The door hissed shut, ending a muffled trail of obscenities could be heard down the hallway.

Captain America, Iron Man, the Hulk, the Black Widow and Hawkeye were left in the room.

"Adults," Stark huffed as he started to twirl in his chair. "So... never?" he said with a smirk. The other four at the table gave him incredulous looks. "Oh, come on! You were thinking the same thing."

* * *

§

* * *

TOP SECRET/SPECIAL ACCESS REQUIRED-SIRENFALL

STRATEGIC HOMELAND INTERVENTION ENFORCEMENT LOGISTICS DIVISION

SCI OPS R&amp;D DEPARTMENT/LEVEL 8

0-8-4 Report No. D1995AE-_010_

[. Special Warning  
[. This document contains information exempt from mandatory disclosure under  
[. the Freedom of Information Act that may be protected by the National Security  
[. Act of 1959, as amended (50 United States Code §402 (note)). Reproduction  
[. or removal of pages is prohibited.

copy _11_ of 20 . created 24/10/95

TECHNICAL MEMORANDUM

Part A. EXECUTIVE SUMMARY

1\. BACKGROUND: ▓▓▓▓▓ ▓▓▓▓▓ ▓▓▓▓▓ ▓▓▓ ▓▓▓▓, ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ ▓▓▓▓, ▓▓▓ ▓▓ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ ▓▓▓▓▓▓ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ ▓▓ ▓▓▓▓▓▓. ▓▓ ▓▓▓▓▓▓ ▓▓▓▓▓ ▓▓▓▓▓ an Apple of Eden, which has been designated D1995AE (referred hereafter as the 0-8-4). ▓▓ ▓▓▓▓ ▓ ▓▓▓▓ ▓▓▓▓▓, ▓▓▓▓ ▓▓▓▓▓▓ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ ▓▓▓▓ ▓▓ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ ▓▓ ▓▓ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓. ▓▓▓▓ ▓▓▓ ▓▓▓▓ ▓▓▓▓ ▓ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ ▓▓ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ ▓▓▓▓▓ ▓▓▓▓ ▓▓▓▓▓▓ ▓▓▓▓▓▓ ▓▓ ▓▓▓▓▓▓ ▓▓▓▓▓▓ ▓ ▓▓▓▓▓ ▓▓▓▓▓.

2\. SUMMARY OF FINDINGS: The 0-8-4 emits radiation of unknown composition, similar to that of ▓▓▓ ▓▓ ▓▓ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓. Stabilizing this energy would likely lead to numerous strategic applications. Fluctuations within 0.0102 μSv and other unknown abnormalities prevent further study. The levels recorded ▓▓ ▓▓▓▓▓▓ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓, this radiation can damage DNA and injure tissue. At least two staffers were exposed to the unknown radiation with levels greater than 100,000 μSv (potentially increasing their risk of cancer). However, six other staffers working in equal proximity and with comparable levels of physical contact show no such symptoms. The two staffers affected are of similar ethnic origin, ▓▓▓▓ ▓▓ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ ▓▓ ▓▓ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓, and both voiced personal concerns prior to physically handling the 0-8-4. The explanation for the concern was a psychosomatic inclination that preceded a mild case of ongoing tinnitus. Further details are available in Appendix 1C.

3\. RECOMMENDATIONS: An operative qualified for Project S.I.R.E.N. should be dispatched immediately to access the unknown properties of the 0-8-4. A list of known candidates with sufficient talent is attached in Appendix 2B. No further action is advised until such an evaluation is made.  
Furthermore, ▓▓▓▓▓▓ ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ ▓▓ ▓▓▓▓▓▓ ▓▓ ▓▓▓▓▓▓ ▓▓▓▓▓ ▓▓▓▓▓.

Signed,  
Agent Anne Weaver, SCI OPS R&amp;D  
Badge Number: RJQ 97T6231

LEVEL 8  
TS/SAR-SF

* * *

§

* * *

"Lady Sydney, it is I, Loki of Asgard," Loki said loudly at Sydney's door after knocking. "I have come to apologize." He knew she was there, but she didn't answer immediately.

When Loki was considering whether to knock again more persistently or leave, the door opened with an automatic hiss. Sydney's arms were crossed over her chest, and she blocked the entrance, but she wasn't being hostile. "You already did," she murmured, "you already apologized to me."

"Yes, but I spoke instinctively without thought or expressing true remorse. I wish to do so now, if you would permit." He tilted his head. "_We also need to talk, as you described, privately._"

The look of shock on her face was fleeting, but then she opened the door for him. "I see. Come in, please_._"

She noticed that he left the door wide open behind them. "_I take it that you think we are being watched_."

"_You, of that I am not so sure. Myself? Oh... most definitely, of that I have no doubt._"

They walked together the short distance to the small living area of her recently assigned quarters. Neither sat down.

Sydney shuttered her eyes and gave him a faint smile. "First, I want to apologize to you," she said. Loki wrinkled his brow in disbelief. Sydney held up a hand and continued, "I know that I have you to thank for saving my life when I came out of stasis, yet during the first five minutes of the meeting this morning I reacted without thinking, threatening you with that... with the ice. Not only is that doubly inexcusable, but it isn't the first time I've had a shortage of tact since waking. I find my pattern in this unnerving, as have others. I am going to work on behaving less..." She cringed, "barbaric."

"_Yes, I did see the previous destruction of that conference room. No, I saw this not by my force, as the memory was foremost in your mind when I touched it._" He cleared his throat, "No, m'lady. Your response was natural. I honestly did not expect to be discovered, and for that you are to be commended and I reprimanded_._ I should have known you would be aware of my actions; I knew of your magic when you woke. Indeed, that was the reason I felt compelled to save you. Still, how you were able to sense my intent is a testament to your grasp of sorcery, and as such I will treat you with respect from this point forward."

"So, you are not this considerate to all humans?" She narrowed her eyes.

"No, m'lady. I find you... interesting." He spread his hands in an open gesture, "_I sense great power in you, and this intrigues me. However, I am here, my main purpose in coming, is to advise you to keep this particular ability we are now utilizing to yourself. Also,_" he hesitated, "_I lead the others to believe I had angered you by using magic to view your body without clothing_."

Loki could see the moment Sydney realized what he said when her cheeks became flushed. "Why?" she said, both out loud and telepathically.

"That is a complicated answer. Regardless, I spoke the truth earlier. I will not violate your privacy again," he said. "_In the past, I have mentally controlled humans, and I did so with nefarious intent. That was not my objective in regards to you. I do not control others now, but I do reach out empathetically on occasion. I only use passive probing, as anything more would be cause for great concern amongst most humans should they find out. Though, and I hope this to be untrue, __I believe that you would be treated as much an enemy as I if your ability were to become known. So... I covered what I found by misdirecting to the others something quite unseemly._" He shrugged, "I suppose I could say that I was interested in your well-being and miraculous rate of recovery since your revival."

"_A lie._"

"_An omission. It is not a lie to keep the entire truth to oneself._"

She rolled her eyes, "I see why you are called the god of lies; however, your apology is accepted and I thank you for it. Consider yourself lucky, I am a woman who has faith that _everyone_ is worthy of forgiveness." She showed him back to the hall. As she was about to close the door, she touched his mind one last time. "_Wait. I'm curious about one thing._" Loki turned, his arms clasped behind his back, and raised an eyebrow at her. "_Can you really see through clothing?_"

"_You are only curious about one thing? I find that hard to believe._" Loki smiled and inclined his head. "Good night, Lady Sydney."

* * *

§

* * *

[16] **According to the comics, Asgardian body density is three times denser than that of normal human beings, contributing to their superhuman strength and weight. I'm going to assume the same is true for the Frost Giants, because Loki's weight is 525 pounds (according to the Marvel Comics Wiki).**

[17] _**Hiilidioksidi**_** is Finnish (according to Google Translate) for _carbon dioxide_, a colorless, odorless gas produced by burning carbon and organic compounds (which is associated with climate change). I just liked the foreign way that word sounded... Loki may have said "carbon dioxide" to a human, but I didn't see him using a non-Asgardian word when speaking with his brother... not that Finnish is Asgardian. Also, _hiili_ is Finnish for _carbon_. (If you want to understand the science of climate change that I'm trying to describe, I highly recommend watching Neil de Grasse Tyson's explanation in the 12th episode of _Cosmos: A Spacetime Odyssey_ to see him break it down into logical and easy to grasp chunks).  
**

[18] **_Niciodată fără permisiunea mea!_ is Romanian (according to Google Translate) for _Never again without my__ permission__!_ Any guesses to where I got the inspiration for that particular snippet of dialogue? LOL**


	12. Reality is merely an illusion

****Author's Note****

**Notice the new cover image? I'll have you know that I made that little masterpiece using Microsoft Word and MS Paint. That's right; I can rock it like a hurricane when I make do with what little I have.**

**I digress. The next time I update a chapter, you will officially see the new name of this story. ****_The Prince and the Blue Stocking _****_Beauty_**** will be changed to ****_Loki: Lover of Fidelity_ (there is a spoiler in that if you're shrewd enough to catch it)****. I hope this doesn't confuse anyone too much, but please forgive me if it does. I have given this quite some thought, and the new title is more appropriate by far. Given enough time, I hope you will all agree.**

**Dialogue in both "****_italics and quotations_****" denote telepathic conversations. Numbers in [brackets] denote footnotes, which you can find at the bottom of the chapter. Nothing from the Marvel universe is mine.**

**~ Refictionista, September 10, 2014**

* * *

§ **Chapter XI **§  
reality is merely an illusion

* * *

So far, the second meeting was succeeding in almost every single way that the first one did not. Dr. Bergström hadn't yet threatened anyone with an ice dagger. The Black Widow and Hawkeye's firearms had remained holstered the entire time. Thor hadn't once needed to reprimand his brother for some misbehavior or another. Surprisingly, Loki didn't use his silver tongue to manipulate anyone... though he was quite certain they wouldn't have realized it had he chosen to do so. Director Fury kept his cool. As did Dr. Banner, whose growing evidence of anger management was proving to be more consistent and reliable than the director's. Stark was sarcastic, inattentive and puerile, but all of that was to be expected from him, obviously. And though the Iron Man wasn't the reason the last meeting ended abruptly, his behavior was the reason this second meeting ended early.

Fury had just finished his overview on the highly classified background of the 0-8-4, which stated at the beginning of the Project S.I.R.E.N. dossiers distributed to everyone that it was otherwise known as the Apple of Eden. Dr. Bergström hadn't looked up since he had described the explosion that resulted in her cryogenic suspension, not even when Captain America had given her forearm a reassuring pat. The gentle soldier sitting next to her suspected that she was fighting back tears, and he silently prayed that Fury's briefing would be over soon.

"... Which is why, when it disappeared, we were at a complete loss on how to get it back," finished the director. He leaned back in his chair with a scowl, crossing his arms over his chest. "Any thoughts?"

Loki leaned forward before anyone else had a chance to speak. "I think humanity had no business dealing with the like of a power such as that and were you to possess any noteworthy level of intellect you would realize you shouldn't try to recover what you shouldn't have had in the first place."

"I'm interested in anyone _else's_ opinion," said Fury.

Without looking up, Agent Barton set his gun on the table... with the barrel pointing towards Loki. The subtle threat was seen by everyone and remarked on by none.

Dr. Banner turned from weapon to Loki and then back to Fury. "In all fairness, it sounds like the Bergström woman said almost the exact same thing."

"But why?" asked Agent Romanoff.

"A better question is _how_ she knew," said Stark. "Hello? Sydney?" He leaned forward and tapped the table with his pen to get Dr. Bergström's attention. She blinked and made eye contact with him. "How did your aunt know that it would be a bad idea to interact this particular 0-8-4? Scratch that, a very, _very _bad idea."

Aware that everyone's eyes were on her, the young woman indulged in a fleeting impulse to disappear. She discarded the thought when she realized that she might _actually_ be able to make that happen. _Be careful what you wish for_, she thought.

"_Lady Sydney, does your past make you desire to vanish?_" asked Loki.

"_I do not want to discuss this right now, please get out of my head_." she replied.

"_As you wish_."

She sighed and realized everyone was still watching her expectantly. "We are... that is... she was..." She gave an involuntary shudder. Captain Rogers reached for her hand, which she squeezed back gratefully. "A-Aunt Blanche was a witch of the west. As am I."

She didn't explain further, leaving everyone even more confused.

"Huh," said Stark finally. "I'm gonna need a little more information than that, kiddo." When she still didn't respond, he barged ahead, "One, that little button nose of yours is anything but crooked. Plus, no warts. Two, you aren't green." He looked over at Banner, "Not that green is a bad thing. I'm a huge fan of the way you lose control and turn into an enormous green rage monster."

"Thanks," said Banner.

"No problem." Stark nodded and turned back to Bergström, "Three, and this is a complete guess on my part, sweetheart, but you seem more like a dog person, less of a flying monkey kind of girl. Am I wrong?"

Hawkeye coughed in a manner that sounded suspiciously like he was covering up a snort of laughter.

"Warts? Monkeys?" said Thor, crinkling his brow. "I do not understand."

Rogers dropped Bergström's hand and sat up straight in his chair to exclaim, "I do!"

Stark rolled his eyes, while Captain America smiled broadly to the others at the table, looking proud of himself. "I understood that reference."

"Before we get off topic, I just wanted to say, for the record, I will fully support any and all wicked behavior from this young woman."

"Tony!" snapped Romanoff.

"Okay, fine. You too, Natasha. I approve any and all of your wicked behavior as well. Especially if it involves Jello, even green Jello. Like I said, I don't have a problem with green. I'm an equal opportunity superhero."

Barton rotated the gun on the table so that the barrel was now pointing to Stark.

Director Fury stood up, "Congratulations to you this time, Mr. Stark. Once again, I find it necessary to prematurely adjourn our meeting before adding yet another potential charge to a very expensive sexual harassment lawsuit. Not that I really care. I'm hungry. It's past my dinner time. And I don't feel like dealing with any of you any further this evening. Dismissed."

"Sir..." said Barton.

"I'm already gone, Hawkeye," said the director before the doors closed behind him.

* * *

The entertaining area in the common rooms of the Avenger's headquarters had quite a spread for a light evening 'snack' by the time they arrived. Next to a Greek salad was a green pea pasta, the oiled carbs beckoning and sinful compared to the leafy greens. Tiny cheese sliders with butter glazed buns were stacked high next to a platter of open faced cucumber sandwiches sprinkled with lemon pepper on crustless -style brisket, smoked to perfection, and pulled pork served with bourbon BBQ sauce were oddly placed next to a fruit display and a couple of takeout boxes of pepperoni pies from Di Fara Pizza in Brooklyn. It was a hodgepodge of various tastes to satisfy the eclectic needs of this special group, all of whom burned more calories per day than Michael Phelps. It wasn't a surprise that _they_ had already eaten dinner. This was the 'meal' simply meant to get them through the rest of the night.

Thor was describing the food from his realm to Jane, whose rapt attention fueled his ego. "Verily. On Asgard, we customarily eat but two meals each day. Náttmál is usually quite the feast at eventide and tends to be festive, regardless if there is an occasion to celebrate or not," he said.

"What about breakfast? Or is it lunch? Is that held in the hall, too?"

"The first meal, dagmál is much like your breakfast. However, unlike náttmál, we usually eat... _privately_ in our chambers in the morning."[19] The suggestive look he gave Jane caused her to blush and giggle.

"They probably don't have Pop Tarts either," said Darcy. She leaned over to Sydney to mock whisper conspiratorially. "He may be all muscly and everything, but he can eat an entire box of Pop-Tarts and then _still_ be hungry enough to inhale your hidden stash of Milano cookies."

"Darcy. Please, let it go," chided a frowning Jane.

"Twelve Pop Tarts in a box, Jane. Twelve. And those were _my_ cookies... Pepperidge Farm ain't cheap. Maybe your princes..."

Pepper Potts interrupted, "J.A.R.V.I.S., please arrange for a bag of Milano cookies to be stocked at all times in Darcy's room while she is here in the tower."

"Will do, Miss Potts." The disembodied voice paused for a moment before saying, "Miss Lewis, is there a particular flavor you prefer?"

"Yes, please. Dark Chocolate. You know, like the kind the angels make in heaven."

"Certainly, Miss Lewis."

"Suh-weet," sang Darcy as she raised both arms in victory. "Thank you, J.A.R.V.I.S."

"Thank you, Pepper," said Jane.

"Not a problem," said Pepper, who turned back to Tony.

"So," said Darcy to Sydney, "we haven't been formally introduced. I'm Darcy Lewis, sidekick to Dr. Foster over there. What crazy reason brings you here?"

"I was kidnapped by S.H.E.I.L.D., touched by a poisoned apple, blown up, frozen and then kept in a warehouse for eighteen years. Last month I was accidentally revived and now my hair is turning white and S.H.E.I.L.D. is keeping me under 'observation' by 'urging' me to work with them," Sydney gestured to the others. "Crazy enough?"

"Par for the course. What work do you do?"

The bubbly girl sitting next to her reminded Sydney of Eriko, so she immediately decided that she liked Darcy. She missed her best friend, talking about herself only seemed to bring that out more, but somehow Darcy made her smile. _Much like Eriko would have_.

"My doctorate was in cellular biology, but S.H.E.I.L.D. is more interested in my magic."

"Cool. I'm political science, but Jane's into physics... so I spend most of my time lugging around her mad science devices. Usual sidekick type gig."

"Astrophysics," Jane clarified forcefully to Sydney.

"Seriously? Like there's really that much of a difference." She turned to Sydney, "So, magic. Like Thor's 'science is magic' or bibbidi-bobbidi-boo?"

"Something like that," said Sydney.

"Bibbidi-bobbidi-boo?" asked Loki and Steve at the same time. They looked at each other then back at Darcy for an explanation, but she was already working on a mouthful of brisket.

"T'is a spell used by an elderly fairy in Lady Jane's favorite Midgardian myth about a man who forgets what his true love's visage and later tries to find her using footwear," Thor helpfully provided.

"That's... that's not how the story goes," Jane disputed.

"Verily, I could easily be mistaken. T'was still quite early in the foremorn on the day of Saturn when we watched it." Then Thor whispered something into Jane's ear, causing yet more giggling and blushing.

Steve had a feeling that whatever they were talking about would make him uncomfortable. "Sydney, just so I can understand... Being a witch of the west has nothing to do with being a wicked witch, right?" he asked. "I know it's a stupid question..."

"No, it's okay. There are no stupid questions," said Sydney. She took a deep breath. "I'm an elemental witch who practices mostly pelagic magic. I was my... my aunt's apprentice, and, like her, water is my strongest element. Elemental witches work in covens of four. Four classical elements. Four witches. Each element corresponds with a season and a compass point. Water corresponds with the west, and so we call ourselves witches of the west."

"Okay, that makes sense... I guess. Which season are you?" asked Steve.

"Winter," answered Loki for her. "_I am correct, am I not?_"

"Yes," said Sydney, "winter."

"What kind of wizard are you?" Darcy asked Loki.

"I am _not_ a wizard."

"Fine. _What element_ is your strongest?" Darcy asked testily.

"Asgardian magic is wholly unlike what is practiced here on Earth. What makes it work for me would not work for Lady Sydney, but the results are _or could be_ similar."

"Well then, how does it work for you?" asked Bruce.

"It's magic, duh," said Darcy waggling her fingers in the air.

"I'm talking about science, not magic," said Bruce.

"Well, 'magic's just science we don't understand yet.' Arthur C. Clarke," quoted Jane.

"Who wrote science-fiction," said Tony.

"A precursor to science fact!" quipped Jane.

"In some cases, yeah," he acknowledged.

"_I can see why your primitive cultures once worshiped us as deities_," said Loki to Sydney.

"_I am descended from those primitive cultures_," said Sydney.

"_Yes, and I still find it intriguing that you did_." Loki smiled; she reminded him how much it was possible to overcome his own beginnings.

Thor leaned forward to catch Tony's attention. "Your ancestors called it magic, but you call it science," he said. He turned to Loki, "Brother, I deem our friends would express gratitude were you to explain how we come from a land where they are one and the same."

"We are _not_ friends," said Clint. When no one said anything after an awkward silence, he got up and left the room. Natasha followed after him.

"Well, that was uncomfortable," said Darcy. "Not that I totally disagree with what he said about Mr. Tall, Dark and Terrifying."

"Darcy... just don't. Loki is sitting right there," said Steve.

"What? This _is_ polite-Darcy that's talking." She turned to Loki, "Did you think I was being mean? Because, and let's face it, even if I _was_, you kinda deserve something like that."

"The difference between something and nothing could be a matter of perception," said Loki.

"Shakey shakey what?"

Loki ignored Darcy and directed the conversation back to Bruce. "To answer the monster's original question, I'll first give a simple illustrative example." He paused, "I've heard an expression in this realm... if a tree falls in a forest and no one is there to hear it, does it make a sound? Is this query familiar to you?"

"You're talking about a philosophical thought experiment," said Bruce, who in turn had ignored Loki's monster comment.

"One that provokes discussion regarding observation and knowledge of reality," said Jane.

"Yes. I can 'vanish' into thin air," said Loki who then disappeared. Everyone gasped as three Loki illusions then appeared around the room. Bruce poked at the one next to him, his hand going right through that Loki, who looked tiredly down at the good doctor.

Loki reappeared back at his original spot on the couch. "When we look at the world around us, it seems to be really solid. It feels solid, but it is not." His cloned illusions faded.

"Magic is what isn't _solid_?" asked Steve with confusion.

"No, just in this particular example he is saying that the solid world around us is merely an illusion," said Sydney.

"Ohhh... I get it! There is no spoon," whispered Darcy.

"Reality is always an illusion?" asked Steve, even more confused.

"Yes," said Loki. He gave the soldier a thoughtful look. "Are you aware of atoms? The different elements that make up your world." He looked over at Sydney, "I'm referring to your non-classical elements."

"Yes," said Steve indignantly.

"I meant no offense." Loki reached for a sugar packet and poured most of the granules out onto the table. He rubbed a few of the remaining ones between his fingers and then held his index finger out to Steve, "If one grain of this sugar were equivalent to the nucleus of an atom, then it would take the entire floor of this building to make up the atom. In between the granual and the balcony is absolutely nothing, it's empty."

"That isn't entirely true; there are forces at work between the spaces of..." Jane interrupted.

Loki cut her off, "What makes things feel solid is the repulsion of electrons on the outer shells of the atoms. If you did not feel this force, you could pass right through solid matter." He gestured towards Bruce.

"But there _is_ electrical revulsion between charged particles," said Bruce. He turned to Steve, Pepper and Darcy, the ones in the room who seemed confused. "An electron is surrounded by a quantum vacuum." He cupped his hands around two imaginary points. "Imagine," he continued, "that the electron of the atom is in a shroud, and the shrouds of different atoms can't pierce each other." He then bumped his two hands together.[20]

"Unless you had a particle accelerator like a Large Hadron Collider to increase their kinetic energies," quipped Tony.

"Yes, but to do that the subatomic particles need to travel at 670 million miles per hour. Loki's fast, but is he 3 meters per second slower than the speed of light fast? If he could do that, then could alter any stable state of matter at any point in space time." asked Bruce.

"Finally, someone who speaks English," said Tony.

"Is that what just happened?" asked Steve.

"Wait. I have this," said Darcy. "When you vanish and go invisible, you're moving really fast and your atoms are in the same place as other atoms." She smiled at Jane, "You didn't think I was paying attention when you got all excited about the Higgs Boson last year. I still really don't know what that is, but I totally respect the fact that they discovered it." Darcy looked back at Loki, "Am I right?"

"Close enough," said Loki. She kept smiling until he said, "At least, that is likely the extent of what your simple mind would be able to grasp."

"_That wasn't very nice_," Sydney's mind said to Loki.

"Oh, my apologies," said Loki to Darcy. "Did you think I was being mean?" He didn't glance over at Sydney, but she could feel his grin hovering in her thoughts like the ghostly smile of a Cheshire Cat.

* * *

§

* * *

[19] **The Vikings customarily ate two meals each day. The first, dagmál or "day-meal" was eaten in the morning, approximately two hours after the day's work was started (7 AM to 8 AM or so), while the second, náttmál or "night meal" was consumed at the end of the day's labor (7 PM to 8 PM or so). These times would vary seasonally, depending on the hours of daylight. Food for thought, LOL.**

[20] **Most of the dialog and descriptions from this scene come from episode 5 (What is Nothing?) from season 3 of _Through the Wormhole_. It's a hand waving science documentary narrated by Morgan Freeman. I realize this might be a little heavy (and I'm no physicist with any deep understanding of these concepts), so I'm ending the chapter here and on a light note. I hope I didn't push anyone too much or get my facts totally screwed up beyond all recognition.**


	13. The secret of a happy marriage is secret

****Author's Note****

**I hope that last chapter wasn't too far off on the science or overwhelming. I lost a couple of followers... That's happened before, which hasn't fazed me when it did, but the previous chapter was out of my comfort zone... so I'm being paranoid. That's okay though, because (one) my mind works best when I'm off my rocker. And (two), it was pointed out to me that if one of y'all out there knows enough theoretical physics to tell me how wrong I am, then that's _great_ because I would have a science buddy. So my tens of readers, feel free to point out the sciencey holes in my science fiction.  
**

**As anticipated, the story's title has officially been changed. I also renamed the chapters (by removing the chapter numbers). Plus, I went back and redid the numbers inside all the previous chapters at the headers with Roman numerals. I feel this will help with any confusion due to the fact that the first _chapter_ was actually a prologue. It also feeds my OCD.  
**

******Sections entirely in _italics_ denote flashbacks.**** Numbers in [brackets] denote footnotes, which you can find at the bottom of the chapter. Nothing from the Marvel universe is mine.**

**~ Refictionista, September 12, 2014**

* * *

§ **Chapter XII **§  
the secret of a happy marriage is a secret

* * *

Natasha shut the door to Clint's room behind her with a satisfied smirk on her face.

"Someone's back in their _happy_ place."

Darcy, Jane and Sydney were heading down the hallway that lead to the tower's living quarters, stopping after turning the corner when they saw the redheaded agent in front of Hawkeye's door. Natasha dissolved into a blank, yet stern expression. She repositioned her heels shoulder-width apart and her hands behind her back; it gave the impression that she stood at attention. It also made the other women uncomfortable.

"Okay, I'll shut up now," Darcy said. She nudged Jane as if to tell her '_say something_', but the astrophysicist merely nudged her back.

Sydney rolled her eyes. "We're glad we found you. We were heading to Darcy's room. Jane swiped some of Tony's good tequila," Jane smiled and held up the bottle, "and Darcy already stashed some rum there that she appropriated earlier. Would you care to join us?"

"Pepper is going to bring popcorn," said Jane sweetly.

Natasha said nothing, but she shrugged a shoulder and made an indication with her hand as if to say _lead the way_. Not entirely sociable, but it was a start.

They went into Darcy's tiny room while Sydney went down the hall to her own, coming back with cushions from her sofa. She gave one to Natasha, and the two of them settled themselves on the floor across from Darcy's tiny loveseat. Pepper came in wheeling a desk chair laden with shot glasses, wine flutes, popcorn, a couple two-liters of soda, and some bottles of Merlot and vodka; she put everything out on the coffee table and settled into the now empty chair.

"What did I miss?" asked Pepper.

"Natasha, would you care to share anything with the group?" asked Darcy.

Natasha exhaled and grabbed the bottle of vodka and one of the shot glasses. Then she leaned forward again to put the shot glass back, but kept the bottle.

"She didn't mean anything by that," said Jane.

"Yes, I did. No regrets," said Darcy. Jane gave her a look. "What? Her archer man is _gorgeous_."

Natasha ignored Darcy and fiddled with her arrow necklace, and then she took another swig from the vodka bottle. Darcy shrugged and filled two shot glasses with tequila and handed one to Sydney. Natasha paused from drinking long enough to raise an eyebrow. "Are you two old enough to drink?"

"I might have turned 21 a couple of months ago," Darcy half mumbled evasively.

"I'm 36," said Sydney after she downed her shot. Natasha turned her raised eyebrow to Sydney. "I am," she huffed, "I _was_ born in 1978."

"Well, I think you look amazing," said Pepper.

"Thanks."

"For your age, that is," snickered Darcy in a good-humored kind of way.

"You have _no_ idea," replied Sydney. "Looking back, sometimes it felt like only a few moments, but while I was... sleeping... more like a thousand years passed."

"Dude, then you are in _damn_ good shape."

Natasha then offered to pour some vodka in Sydney's glass, which she accepted. She clinked her bottle with Sydney's glass, "Budem zdorovy!"[21]

* * *

Jane left early on to join Thor for the evening. Pepper stated she didn't need to go anywhere, as Tony would likely be tinkering in his lab for most of the night. Natasha had divulged that while she and Clint might enjoy incredibly vigorous sex together, they didn't usually _sleep_ together... so she wasn't going anywhere either. The rest of the evening was a symphony of laughter and drinking, aided by the music provided from Darcy's iPod.

"Oh my," said Pepper as her eyes watered, "this came from under Tony's bar? What is this stuff?"

"I'm guessing the alcoholic equivalent of a mugging, expensive and bad for your head," said Sydney in slurred speech. She was curled up on Darcy's bed.

"I'm guessing that would describe almost everything in his liquor cabinet," said Natasha. She seemed the least affected of the group, despite the fact that she had been drinking more than the rest of them combined. She was Russian after all, or at least used to be.

Darcy grabbed the bottle. "It says..." She blinked, "Damn, I can't read good no more. Who cares? This shit's da' bomb." She looked over towards her bed. "Hey, Sydney. How ya' doing girl? You okay? If you feel like pukin', then remember to aim your face _away_ from my pillow."

"I'm fine, Eriko" came Sydney's muffled voice from face down on the bed.

"Dude. That is the second time you called me that tonight. Who's Eriko?"

"Sorry, a really good friend of mine," said Sydney sleepily. "I'm not thinking straight, and you remind me of her."

"Cool," said Darcy. Her eyes widened, "OMG, speaking of _friends_... Do you guys want to hear a secret?"

Pepper coughed delicately. "I think I'll just call it a night now," she said. "You can tell other people's secrets after I'm gone."

"Party pooper!" said Darcy as Pepper got up and started pushing the chair across the room.

"Plausible deniability," said Pepper as she shut the door behind her.

Darcy frowned, but then turned to Natasha with a bright smile. "I'll bet the kickass spy in the room would want to hear my secret."

"Of course, go ahead."

"Guess the names of the two crazy kids who are going to have a wedding. Ding ding ding. I'll give you a clue, one of them is planning on going to Asgard to marry her boyfriend/fiancé... who _literally_ has the body of a sexy god... he just has to ask his dad for permission first."

"Permission?" Natasha raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah. Princes have to ask their dads for permission before they get married. It's a king thing." Darcy laughed, "That rhymed!"

"When is all this going to happen?" asked Natasha conversationally. Veiled interest disguised the agent's predisposition to treat friends as assets; it was a habit that was hard to break.

"Next week, when Thor goes to Asgard with Loki; he's going to get Odin's consent then. Then they come back. Then on their _next _trip, Jane is going with them. OMG. And guess what? I'm going too. I'm going to be in the bridal party, whoooo!" Darcy reached across the arm of the loveseat and shook Sydney's leg. "Hey, witchy woman! Isn't that awesome?" She shook the limp appendage harder. "I'm talking to you, lightweight!"

No response.

"Crap. I think she passed out."

"Come on," said Natasha, standing up and stretching slowly with feline grace like a panther. "I'll help you get her to her room."

* * *

§

* * *

_"Why? Does she have a problem with you bringing me over to spend the night?" _

_The masculine whisper, if it could be called that, was too deep _not_ to hear. Sydney wished he realized whispering wasn't the problem. If Eriko_ _had wanted not to wake her up, then they shouldn't have made_ _so much freaking noise in the kitchen earlier. Her room was directly above it._

_She could_ _hear_ everything_ through the vents._

I'm going to leave a note for Eriko to wipe down the table, _thought Sydney, getting out of bed to find a notepad and pen from her desk. Passive aggression wasn't her thing. __She usually had more charitable thoughts, plus Eriko had rarely been inconsiderate. But... seriously... no one was that good for that_ _long_. I'm going to make you regret faking it, _she mused._

_"Shhh... No, I told you. She's going to defend her thesis later this week. I don't want to wake her."_

_There was the sound of someone stumbling on the stairs._

_"Too late," said Sydney after deciding to open the door to her bedroom. She crossed her arms over her chest._

_"Oh, god. Sydney, I'm so sorry. We've been drinking, and I totally know that isn't a good excuse. I'm sorry. Shogo just finished his latest rotation, and we were celebrating." She blinked and hiccupped, realizing something. "Oh, right. Sydney Bergström, I'd like you to meet my _future_ boyfriend Lee Shogo. We'll have a DTR once I get him to take me on a proper date. Shogo, this is my roommate, Sydney._[22]

_Shogo's face became bright red._

_"Charmed, I'm sure," said Sydney. She looked and sounded anything but charmed._

_"The genius best friend," he said nervously but with a radiant smile. "I've been looking forward to meeting you." He didn't hold out a hand to Sydney, but that was understandable as he was currently doing his best to keep Eriko upright and vertical. Shogo was cute, in a short yet gangly sort of way. Sydney could admit that. Eriko had told her all about Shogo, and had repeatedly mentioned how she was falling head over heels for him. That is... If you could fall for a guy over hurried lunches in a cafeteria while he slaved away in med school. _Eriko worked in one of the hospital's administrative offices, and had helped him out with directions when she noticed he was lost. It turned out later that he had faked asking for help, just so he could treat her to lunch as a thank you.__

_Okay, fine. He might _possibly_ be charming._

_"I asked Eriko to invite you come out with us, but she said that wouldn't come."_

_"I just turned nineteen, so I couldn't even get into any of the bars with you. Plus, and possibly more importantly, I don't drink."_

_"You're only nineteen?" His eyes widened, "And you're already getting your PhD?"_

_"She's freaky brain smart and a-ma-zing!" Eriko giggled, "I love you, Sydney!" She threw herself across the hallway to give Sydney a hug._

_"I'd better get her to bed," said Shogo, carefully extracting his drunken girlfriend's arms and holding her up once again._

_"Do that," said Sydney._

_"Sorry for waking you up. Eriko and I will make it up to you, we promise. I'll make a coffee and doughnut run in the morning."_

_"Thanks, I'd appreciate that. Just keep it down, please. I really do need to have as much sleep as possible, at least right now."_

_"I know. We will, thanks for understanding."_

_Sydney could see why Eriko wanted to marry this guy. She didn't know why he was so shy about asking Eriko out. Seriously, they were just shagging each other like rabbits on the kitchen table. Why on earth did asking her out make him nervous?  
_

* * *

§

* * *

Instead of being on a high floor of the Triskelion or the Avenger Tower, or even on one of the helicarriers, Nick Fury's main office as director of S.H.I.E.L.D. was underground, in one of the lower bunker levels of Central Campus in New York City. It didn't have a nice view. Actually, there wasn't a view at all. It was a windowless room, heavily guarded and behind reinforced doors with walls of concrete several feet thick.

It gave off the impression that the director had trust issues, which was fine with Agent Natasha Romanoff. She liked to protect herself, too.

Agent Romanoff had just finished her account of the conversation she had with Miss Lewis during 'ladies night' the previous evening.

"On Asgard?" asked Director Fury.

"That is what the girl said," said Romanoff. "Though, she gave the impression it wasn't yet a done deal."

Commander Maria Hill spoke up, "He's a god; it's a done deal."

"I don't think Thor's technically a _God_," said Agent Barton.

"Well, you haven't been near his arms," the commander scoffed.

Fury cleared his throat and regained Romanoff's attention. "What kind of intel on their planet do you think you would be able to pull from her afterwards?"

"My guess is that I can shape her to observe quite a lot while she is there."

"Without her knowing?" the director asked.

"Of course."

"Why not Dr. Foster?" asked Barton. "If her assistant is only there as a bridesmaid..."

"Maid of Honor," Romanoff interrupted.

"Whatever," he said, "Her access would likely be more limited. Shouldn't our motivation go to the more valuable source?"

Hill shook her head. "Dr. Foster is risky to use as a rabbit. She is far too devoted to Thor to be turned, and too perceptive to be shaped into an asset without realizing our intention." Hill looked to Fury to see if he concurred.

He narrowed his eye and leaned back, "Agreed."

"We'll do what needs to be done," said Romanoff. Barton nodded.

"I know you will."

It was the closest that Fury ever came to outright praising the agents. The debriefing was adjourned without another word.

* * *

§

* * *

[21] _**Budem zdorovy! **_**(****Будем здоровы!) is Russian (according to Omniglot dot com's webpage on Useful Russian Phrases) for _Cheers!_ Though technically, it is translated as _Let's stay healthy!_**

[22] **In the X-Men comics, Shogo Lee was the name of Jubilee's adoptive son. Let's pretend that future Jubilee (because she won't ever be more than a teenager in my story) will name him after her dad. Just a sweet little treat for y'all to munch on... yet another Easter Egg in my story for the win!  
**


	14. Keep calm and fix your hair

****Author's Note****

**** Finally**! It is time for me to start teasing you with the upcoming conflict. I need to lay down little more groundwork before the actual call to adventure, but we are almost there. Darn you Romance/Adventure genre... you are so frakin' difficult to balance (I say this shaking my fist towards the heavens). ******

******So... Please be patient my dearly cherished tens of readers, and remember that this is my first story _ever_ and that I'm trying to do it right _for you_. Villains and action are coming, I promise.  
******

******Dialogue in both "****_italics and quotations_****" denote telepathic conversations.** Numbers in [brackets] denote footnotes, which you can find at the bottom of the chapter. Nothing from the Marvel universe is mine.****

****~ Refictionista, September 16, 2014****

* * *

§ **Chapter XIII **§  
keep calm and fix your hair

* * *

The next morning, Sydney found herself in the kitchen hunting down tomato juice, cayenne pepper, sugar, and a lime.[23] Then she took her concoction out to the balcony along with some soda crackers. This was her first hangover, but she had witnessed Eriko's preferred morning after routine enough times to know what to do.

Part of her, a _small_ part, was angry for allowing herself to disappear through drinking.

That's really all she did, disappear. She wasn't one to drink and let loose. She didn't use inebriation for fun, never had. She didn't like altering her mind, period. Until Darcy had invited to her for some drinks in her room, that is. Except she didn't let loose or have much fun. Oh, she laughed at the stories and jokes, it wasn't as if she had a bad time. Sydney didn't do anything she would be embarrassed about, except maybe passing out, though she only vaguely remembered Darcy and Natasha helping her back into her own bed.

It was just that she used shot after shot of liquor to make her mind disappear.

That was pathetic, really.

Weak.

But that was just a small part of her mind saying these things. Most of her just shrugged and said _fuck it_.

So here she was, on the balcony of the headquarters to a group of strangers that she had been thrust upon to join, drinking Eriko's tomato juice cure without a straw and practicing her _fuck-it-fu_ without a mat.

Well, technically it was _yoga_... she just hadn't reached any form of mental clarity yet.

Once she had finished all the twisting and poses, Sydney seated herself on one of the balcony's chairs to finish drinking her funky beverage and nibble on the rest of the saltines... and to watch the sunrise. The sky and the reflections on the glass of the nearby buildings was blood red. Brilliant orange light was pouring out from between the crack of two skyscrapers in the east. The rippled clouds were every shade of pink imaginable. _There it was_. Peace. Clarity. Hope. Sydney smiled.

"Do you find this breathtaking?"

Sydney turned to see that Loki had stepped out onto the balcony. His vacant expression at the view in the distance could have been easily dismissed, but she saw something she recognized in herself. _He looks homesick_. She smiled, this time at him. "Do you have sunrises like this on Asgard?" she asked.

"No." It was a curt reply, harsh, almost sounding like he had tried to bite her while saying it. "Your planet is spherical. Asgard is not. Thus, our days and nights are quite different and _far_ more beautiful. Were you to ever see it, you would realize this 'beauty' we see now is grey and pale by comparison."

"Your planet isn't _round_?"

He turned away from the sunrise to her, with a look of bewilderment. "I insult your world's pathetic attempt at grandeur and instead you focus on that sentence?"

"Beauty is in the eye of the beholder... a non-spherical planet is, well, _not_ round like a planet. I find _that_ far more interesting, so of course I focus on _that_." She paused. "Thinking back, I've heard you and Thor refer to Asgard as a realm or a world, but never _as a planet_. What is it then?"

"The home of the gods," he said turning away from her.

"How enlightening," she quipped. "Whatever. Hopefully, I'll find out more from Jane and Darcy when they come back." Sydney gasped and put a hand in front of her mouth, closing her eyes and cursing herself after she realized that perhaps she wasn't meant to share that information. Darcy did say it was a secret.

Loki rolled his eyes. "My brother's supposed betrothal? Fear not, you have revealed nothing. In truth, I already knew of it."

_Ouch_. "Supposed?"

He huffed, "They are not suited to each other."

"Wow. You're really not much of a morning person, are you?"

Loki laughed at that. "No. I am not, as you say, a morning person. Though, I rise earlier each day than most others I know. You are?"

"No, but I try."

"To rise early or be a morning person?"

"Both, actually."

"I see." He took his gaze off the sunrise again and scrutinized her more closely. "Why have you not yet rectified the state of your hair?"

"I _beg_ your pardon." Sydney squared her shoulders and put a hand to cover her damaged and brittle mane. It crunched where she had pressed down on it. She cringed.

"You have access here, in this building, in this city, to any number of beautifying balms the women of this realm use. Perhaps none of those worked, but that then provokes the question as to why you haven't tried using magic to fix that... _wreckage_."

Sydney's gaze narrowed into glaring slits. "When I said, 'I beg your pardon,' it meant that you were being exceptionally rude."

"I gathered that from your tone."

"Yet you didn't apologize."

"I am Loki of Asgard," he said with a shrug as if that explained everything. "I don't apologize. I am here to pay a debt to your world, which I am willing, however grudgingly, to do. Despite this, I am not sorry for what I did. I am a villain. The reality is that simple." He gave her an almost sympathetic look, "And I am not sorry for inquiring about your hair. If you are sensitive about it, then perhaps you should have covered it up to soothe any insecurity. Was it always so dull and colorless?"

Sydney rubbed her forehead, feeling her headache returning. It wasn't worth the effort to reason with him on this; she could just get up and leave, but her vanity needed to be squelched once and for all. Hard to believe it, but he was actually doing her a favor. "No," she sighed. "It turned white and straw-like somehow during my time in hibernation. I'm afraid it has only been getting worse ever since. I've tried every cream and serum Pepper has given me. And yes, I've tried magic. _Repeatedly_. Nothing has worked."

"I see. I could help you with that, if you would like."

"Seriously? You just spouted nothing but verbal diarrhea in my direction since you walked out here. Why would you?" The man had insulted both a beautiful sunrise and her hair in less than fifteen minutes, offering to help fix her stupidly injured vanity made no sense.

"This... look," he grimaced with disgust, "it does not become you."

Sydney, with her mouth hanging wide open, was trying to figure out how to respond to that when Steve popped outside.

"Hey, there! I've been looking for you," he said with a grin.

_Oh, thank the goddess_, she thought. "Good morning, Capt'n."

"I'm glad I found you. I ordered something for you in the mail, and it arrived first thing. Wait here." He held up a finger, motioning her to wait and popped back inside.

"_Why do you encourage that man?_"

Sydney gave Loki a look of pure exasperation; she had nearly reached her limit with the asshole god this morning. "_Because he is very nice, and I_ do_ like him__._"

"_Only as a child __likes a playmate._"

"_He's my friend!_" Sydney stood up to face Loki, but ending up facing Steve instead. Loki had vanished. Though... Sydney felt his presence; he was merely invisible.

"Here it is," Steve said, handing her a brown paper wrapped parcel. He had a grin with dimples, and his teeth were perfect; however, Sydney realized that nothing about the flawless smile he directed at her gave her any joy. Well, not the butterflies-in-her-stomach making her feel-more-alive-kind of joy. _Shit, shit, double shit. Loki is _not_ right. Steve is a sweet guy; anyone would love to be with him._

She smiled sweetly at Steve and opened the box. Inside were red ballet flats.

Sparkly red sequined ballet flats.

With glittery red bows.

_Oh no, he didn't..._

"Ruby slippers," Steve exclaimed. "Just like from the Wizard of Oz. Do you like them?"

He bought and ordered replica ruby slippers for her. She held them up, mentally flinching at how the gaudy sequins were dazzling in the morning light. The _wicked_ witch's shoes. If anything could resolve Sydney's reservations about trying to think of Steve with affection more than that of a doting sister, then this was it. These were practically birth control shoes. She could tell that Steve was waiting eagerly for her response.

_Shit, think of something_, her mind raced. After two seconds passed that felt more like two years, her panic faded. She realized exactly what she needed to say. "You're so sweet, thank you," she shook Steve's hand. "You are such a good friend. I'm so glad we met; I had always wished to have a brother like you."

His face fell, but only slightly.

_Screw it._ _Loki was right_, she thought. What made that worse was that Sydney knew he had just seen everything.

"_Not a word, Loki_. _Not. A. Word._"

She could almost hear him laughing outside the edges of her mind.

* * *

The dark presence had been worried, trembling at the thought of its discovery. For only _after_ the powerful sorcerer had come out onto the balcony, did it realize its dreadful mistake. Its hiding place, the witch's shadow, was pointed _towards_ the rising sun. The wraith knew it could not move to correct its position. It could not even fade away without detection. It had to wait and hope to go unseen.

It sat, paralyzed, disgusted at its own terror. Patience was not a virtue it possessed, and fury burned within it. The cold rage hissed and grew stronger through its spectral form as it cowered in the shade of the woman's body. Every additional moment it was forced to hide, each second it could not flee, its anger grew stronger. It cursed its folly. They would pay for this.

The more time passed, the stronger the possibility of discovery grew. Just as it felt the dark haired sorcerer had begun to scrutinize the white haired witch more closely, its fears reaching their zenith, the soldier had joined them outside.

This broke the sorcerer's concentration. The cold specter hesitated, questioning if it should take this opportunity to go or not. It watched the sorcerer and the witch argue with unspoken words. This was possibly its only chance. Finally, it jumped from the witch's shadow to dissolve itself in the morning fog.

Too late. No, too soon.

The sorcerer instantly realized what had happened, and the specter's terror returned as it watched him instantly vanish. The dark presence knew the sorcerer had shed his corporeal form to search for the unknown presence he had felt. How foolish to presume it could have possibly outfoxed the god of mischief and lies. It could sense the cold heat as could only be felt from Frost Giant from Jötunheimr as the god's tendrils of magic probed the area, searching.

It knew that he knew it had been there.

Watching them.

Watching _her_.

What had the fallen son of Asgard sensed? What did he know?

Did he figure out what it was?

Did he realize _who_ it was? Worse, who had sent it?

Would he share what he had felt with the woman? It shuddered at the thought. Even worse, would those two discover anything if they worked together? Of all of this realm's heroes, these two trained in magic were the most troublesome. It knew that the sorcerer was unwillingly forced to serve this realm, and so perhaps he would not cause a problem. Unfortunately, he also was the god of chaos, and so perhaps he could decide to protect this world on a whim. Fortunately, the specter had observed that he left this realm repeatedly and in consistent, _predictable_ intervals.

_She _was the problem. It had yet to find out if she would be willing to fight and _more importantly _to kill. It had also not discovered any of her weakness or vulnerabilities. It hadn't watched her for enough time.

Its presence was already being pulled from this realm, yet it had not failed. It would deliver its report, as it had been ordered. Embellished and without mentioning its near discovery, the Other would reward it, as promised.

The sorcerer still searched, but now his efforts were in vain. The dark presence was positively gleeful.

* * *

§

* * *

Sydney was giving her new shoes the evil eye. She had hoped that they wouldn't fit, but they did. Of course they did. Maybe Tony would have a Halloween costumed party. She had always disliked the way everyone else in her acquaintance had celebrated that holiday, but an exception could be made. Yes, well... as long as the party wasn't actually held on Samhain, _what day was Halloween this year_? She picked up her iPad from her nightstand and found the calendar app. _Crap_, Friday night. Not a problem. Surely Tony would throw a party on Saturday, right? People would prefer getting all dressed up on a weekend day. She could dress as Dorothy, _not_ the wicked witch, _no _red and white striped socks for her. She could get a blue dress, find a stuffed dog to carry in a basket, get some ribbons and pull her hair into pigtails.

Her hair...

How easy it was earlier to forget about her hair. She looked over to the mirror above her dresser, almost wishing that somehow it had all been a dream. No, it wasn't. The nightmare that was her once beloved mane was still there, and she was looking more and more like a white haired troll doll each day. She looked sickly. With her pale skin, the crinkled white strands were so transparent that they appeared almost sparse. If her conversation with Loki had shown her anything at all, it was that the time had come to let it go.

"Bessie?"

Nothing. Her reflection was her own.

She wasn't going to cover it up as Loki suggested. Better to embrace this and go from there. _Never hide who you are, always stay true to yourself_. She left the bedroom and rummaged around under the sink in her fully stocked en suite. _There it is_. She knew she had seen the hair clippers under there earlier, likely supplied for any man who might have been assigned to these rooms instead of her.

Discovering that the batteries needed to be charged, she plugged the cord in the power outlet. Sydney looked up to see her expression in the bathroom mirror. Her face looked familiar for the first time in weeks. She looked like a soldier; determined, tough, and ready. She nodded as if to further encourage herself and then turned to leave the bathroom. She shut the door firmly behind her.

Suddenly feeling worn, she went back into her bedroom to lie down. She pulled a pillow from under the comforter and curled around it in a fetal position, staring at the closed door. Sydney tried to stroke her hair, but the crackle from the contact with her hand caused stopped her. _This sucks_. She couldn't believe she was about to cry over this. Of all the horrible, agonizing things that had happened to her recently, why on earth was she about to complete breakdown over something as ridiculously petty as _her hair_? It was a good thing she had decided to shave her head; otherwise, she could possibly wallow like a stuck pig until the end of time.

Just as she was starting to doze off, the door to her bathroom opened. _What the..._

Loki stepped out, holding the clippers. "Well, my lady, I see that you have decided to disregard my offer."

"What are you doing here, Loki? I guarantee you that S.H.I.E.L.D. doesn't like your disappearing then reappearing act." She sat up, her eyes narrowing. "What offer?"

"Your hair," he gave her a bored look. "I did offer to help you restore it. Fear not, I've performed such a spell to a maid's hair before."

"Is _that_ what you meant earlier? You were actually, honestly offering to help?"

"Of course, what else would you think I was offering to help you with?" He set down the clippers on her dresser with distaste, as if dropping a dead rodent. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned leisurely against the door frame. "_Is there anything else you would want from me?_" He leaned forward, "_Something you sorely need, perhaps?_" He wasn't smiling with his lips, but his green eyes were shining.

Sydney fought the urge to swallow. He was good, too good, and she made damn sure to clear her mind of all thoughts. "_I don't know what you're talking about._"

Loki squinted as if examining her and shook his head, "_I suppose you don't._" He walked over and lifted her chin, and she gave him a wary look. Before she could swat his hand away, he took a few strands of her hair and rubbed them slowly between his fingers. His touch somehow sent shivers over her scalp, and Sydney repressed an instinctive need to shiver.

He was trying to intimidate her, and she didn't like it. Forgetting that they had just been speaking mentally, she asked out loud, "And what precisely am I supposed to know?"

Loki leaned forward to whisper in her ear. "That perhaps there is someone else you would rather encourage than the soldier out of time."

She stared at him, understanding, and let out a laugh. "You're imagining things." She tried to push him away, but he was as solid as a brick wall and completely unmovable.

He slowly released her hair from his gentle grip, watching the strands slip through his fingers. "Am I?"

"That is... Loki, that is never going to happen."

Loki scoffed, sneering at her. "_You forget, my lady. I have already had the exquisite pleasure of your kiss._" With that dark haired god once again disappeared, vanishing into thin air.

_What an egomaniac! You have got to be _kidding_ me_, thought Sydney. _I would remember kissing... o__h... wait..._ Heat flooded her cheeks as she recalled what happened when she awoke on the floor in the warehouse after her long sleep in the cryotube. Sydney kicked the wall, scuffing it. She grabbed the clippers and marched into the bathroom, suddenly filled with purpose... glorious, hair-shaving, bald-head-making purpose.

After she stepped inside, she dropped the clippers on the tile floor. Her arm and the hand that had held them fell limply to her side. Sydney stood there with her mouth hanging open. She meant to squeal, but all that came out was a choked-like sounding puff of air. Her eyes bulged at what she saw in the mirror. Seconds passed and she didn't move.

Less than a moment later, her reflection shimmered as her familiar came into view.

"Sorry it took me so long to get here after you called," said Bessie. "It was unavoidable. I went to... _ahhhh_!" Sydney watched as her reflection pulled a lock of the luxuriously silky raven-colored tresses in front of her face. "Your hair! Your hair is... black!"

"Really, Bessie? I hadn't noticed."

* * *

§

* * *

[23] **The after hangover routine of my roommate from way back in college (and FYI, this is so _not_ any form of medical advice): First, she drank 16 oz. of water with two ibuprofen. Second, her tomato juice concoction (8 oz. tomato juice, 1/2 tsp cayenne pepper, 1/4 cup sugar) over which she squeezed a lime. _Yes, 1/4 cup of sugar and the 200 calories that this entails, deal with it._ She would drink that with either _plain_ toast or saltine crackers. Third, yoga. Finally, she constantly drank coffee the rest of the day. That last part and ibuprofen is about all I do. Drinking water would probably be better than coffee, but not everyone is perfect. Perhaps you are... in which case I would probably dislike you when I'm hungover.**


	15. He's a cold-hearted snake

**Author's Note**

**I spent some extra time before this update going back over old chapters to correct grammatical errors. It was something to do while I was stuck plot-wise, but I seriously had no idea how many errors there were. That's why it took so long. I'm quite embarrassed, but I'm glad I had writer's block because I wouldn't have known how bad it was otherwise. The first step is recognizing you have a problem, so now hopefully y'all can hold me to a higher standard in the future... just saying. I'm considering looking into getting a beta, but please be patient (this is my first story and I have absolutely no clue on how getting/having a beta actually works).**

**Dialogue in both "_italics and quotations_" denote telepathic conversations. Numbers in [brackets] denote footnotes, which you can find at the bottom of the chapter. Nothing from the Marvel universe is mine.**

**~ Refictionista, October 7, 2014  
**

* * *

§ **Chapter XIV **§  
he's a cold-hearted snake[24]

* * *

Drs. Bergström, Foster and Banner were in the kitchen later that morning discussing their latest findings in the lab and searching for more coffee. Their quest for decaf was a bust so far. Bruce stayed away all stimulants as a general rule, Jane was too polite to drink caffeine in front of someone who couldn't, and Sydney was too impatient to wait around for more than one pot to be brewed.

"How about some decaf tea?" asked Bruce.

"Sure," said Jane.

"No, thank you. Half the joy of coffee is the way it smells, and tea just doesn't do it for me. Wait, here we go. Bingo! Found some," said Sydney. She held the canister up triumphantly, but then did a double take after looking more closely at the label. "Huh... 'Naturally' decaffeinated. Seriously? How exactly do you chemically alter something _naturally_?"

Bruce laughed, "You can. They basically put the coffee beans in a cannon and shoot them at a wall. I'm not sure whether the caffeine molecules are completely broken down or simply knocked unconscious." Sydney raised an eyebrow at him and looked back at the coffee canister suspiciously. "I'm not making this up," Bruce insisted. "I can't. I'm not interesting enough to come up with something like that on my own."

"Not likely. You would be hard pressed to find _anyone_ staying in this tower who wasn't interesting," said Jane.

Sydney nodded and began fiddling with the coffee maker. "Jane, are you still drinking tea? I can make enough for all of us if you want coffee."

"Sure, I'd love some," said Darcy, walking into the kitchen like a zombie risen from the grave. She collapsed on one of the bar stools with a groan and nestled her head down in her arms.

"It's decaf."

"Eww, never mind," Darcy's voice was muffled.

"Are you okay?" asked Jane

"So, I finally drag my ass out of bed, fully expecting you to be feeling crappy as me and finding you hanging out in your pajamas away from sunlight with your makeup looking all scary, but no... You're already at work." Darcy raised her head slowly and held her face in her hands. "I'm cranky and I want to go back to bed. My hopes have been crushed."

Bruce laughed. Darcy opened her eyes to glare at him and then leaned forward blinking.

"Dude, Sydney? Were you so drunk last night that you dyed your hair? I totally thought you gave off a great science vibe with that Albert Einstein hairdo, but this style is _way _better." Darcy hopped off the stool, suddenly less like the walking dead. "You're like... smiling for realsies. How are you not hungover and in jammies? You're wearing lady clothes; you even showered, didn't you? Or maybe now it's just that your hair isn't all _eau de_ _chemical factory_ with a hint of burnt synthetic carpet any more. You smell good."

"Darcy," Jane looked embarrassed at what her intern was saying to her fellow scientist. "Is there a point to all this, cause there really should be a point to all this."

"I want the day off, el Jefe."

"Granted." Jane waited until Darcy's back was turned and she was halfway down the hallway to mouth _I'm sorry_ to Sydney, who merely shook her head indulgently.

"I didn't notice your hair changed," Bruce commented. Jane and Sydney looked at each other and then at him. "It's... darker."

"This morning you noticed from across the lab when I wrote incorrect calculations on the board, but you didn't notice her hair?" asked Jane.

Bruce shifted uncomfortably, "It looks... nice?" He sounded like a child hesitantly guessing the answer to a question after a teacher noticed he wasn't paying attention in class.

Jane smiled and patted his shoulder, "I admire your ability to focus on the task at hand."

Bruce seemed relieved.

"Yeah. Perhaps your work ethic will rub off on us," said Sydney, holding back a laugh. "Speaking of which... We've dilly-dallied enough; time to get back to the lab. We have work to do."

Back in the lab, they resumed running theoretical simulations on the effects on the human body traveling through an Einstein-Rosen Bridge. Traveling via Bifröst wasn't a problem for the Æsir, obviously; however, Thor had said that to the best of his knowledge that no one from Midgard had ever visited Asgard... So Jane being Jane, she was merely exercising caution. Bruce realized the scientist in Jane would be distracted from her nervousness of traveling to Asgard in less than a month from now if she tried to think about the trip clinically.

It was the reason Bruce had suggested to Jane and Sydney that they do so after Jane had trusted him with her secret, and she was grateful to him for it. Jane shivered and zipped up the red hoodie she wore in the lab. The lab was as cold as usual, but the goosebumps were more likely from her nerves. She felt more confident knowing that she could inform Director Fury and S.H.I.E.L.D. of her plans to travel to Asgard with a wealth of information at her disposal. _All the better to inform him with_.

* * *

She may have been the one to suggest that they get back to work, but Sydney couldn't stay in Bruce's lab for long periods of time. His lab may have all the toys, but its design was based on a prototype of the containment drop cage built on S.H.I.E.L.D.'s helicarrier. The room was meant to lock down and cage Bruce in case he turned into the Jolly Green Giant of anger management issues, ergo Sydney felt unusually claustrophobic while the doors were closed... like at any moment she would become stuck in there.

She stood in the hallway outside the lab, not sure exactly where she was headed. All Sydney knew was that she needed yet another break. In the end, she decided to seek out Loki as she hadn't yet thanked him.

She was also curious as to why he turned her hair _black_.

Not that she didn't absolutely love it, because she did. After the initial shock had passed, she almost instantly decided that having dark hair suited her.

He wasn't in his room, and Sydney didn't think that he was not merely answering the door. Sydney decided to find Thor and ask him. She had just reached the sparring room, when she heard voices.

"Thor, enough. More of your conversation would infect my brain."

"Do not think me a fool, brother. I recognize your insults."

"I am _not _your brother."

Recognizing the private family spat for what it was, Sydney stopped before she reached the door. It was obviously not the time to intrude. She had just turned back around, when she heard Loki's voice again.

"Lady Sydney, I know you heard us. There is no reason to slither away like a thief in the night."

_Crap._

She turned around again, and walked up to the doorway. Realizing that Darcy, Natasha and Clint were already in the room, she didn't feel quite as intrusive. Natasha and Clint were in the ring and circling each other while throwing kicks and punches. They seemed oblivious to the arguing and to Sydney's arrival. A somehow no longer hungover Darcy was on a nearby bench; however, instead of facing the match in the ring, she was obviously watching the verbal match between Thor and Loki.

"Hello," she smiled to everyone and then no one. _Nope_, she thought, _not awkward at all._

Thor took one look at Sydney and then tightened his jaw as he gave his brother a stony glare. "I had hoped it wasn't true. Lady Sif would be most displeased to see you performing the same prank," he hissed.[25]

"Prank?" asked Sydney. They both ignored her. Darcy motioned for Sydney to come join her, but Sydney shook her head no.

"I apologized," said Loki. "Repeatedly. Over _five centuries _ago, I might add. And for your information, it wasn't meant to be a permanent change. I miscalculated."

Thor drew his shoulders up, "Lady Sif would disagree."

"Odin's beard, I said I apologized. You even know that I _meant _it," snarled Loki.

"Then why have you _miscalculated_ yet again?" Thor yelled while gesturing wildly. He frowned, "And cease taking our father's name in vain."

"He is not my father!" shouted Loki.

Sydney slammed the door shut behind her a hard as she could. She wasn't that strong and therefore didn't use that much force, still the thwack reverberated loudly due to the acoustics of the room. The two Æsir's heads simultaneously jerked at the sound, somehow oddly startled that their private argument was being observed. Natasha and Clint only gave Sydney the briefest of glances, and then continued with their bout.

"Perhaps you aren't brothers, but you sure do argue like family. Call it personal experience, but nobody gets that angry unless they're dealing with their own family. I swear, you two are _almost _worse than my stepsisters and I ever were," Sydney huffed. "Almost, whatever. Anyway. I'll keep this quick, then you can go back to not-squabbling like not-brothers." She faced Loki and gave him a kind yet forced smile, "I came by to thank you properly."

The brief silence that followed was broken when Darcy snorted.

Loki raised an eyebrow. "You're pleased then," he indicated with one hand, "with your hair?"

"Yes. Thank you." She nodded and exhaled.

Loki smirked at Thor. As Sydney turned to leave, he said, "Of course, I can only guess that you stopped by my quarters first. You had hoped to find me alone and thank me _properly_."

_Oh goddess, he did not just say that. _Sydney pivoted mid-step, and gave Loki an exasperated look, "I don't know why you twist my words, trickster."

Thor began laughing, which incensed Loki. "Laugh it up, you hairy oaf. But you didn't see us alone in _her_ room earlier."

Thor raised an eyebrow and leaned back, looking at Sydney speculatively. Darcy got up to join them.

"She expressed her true feelings for me," Loki gave Thor a smug look.

Sydney blushed so violently you could have fried an egg on her cheeks. She stared Loki down, refusing to give in to her embarrassment. "My... Why, you... you stuck up... lying... cold-hearted snake!"

"What does 'stuck up' mean?" asked Loki, laughing. He turned to Thor and Darcy, "My silver tongue must have been quite accurate to cause a reaction such as this, don't you believe?"

Sydney stared at him, jaw hanging open. "I cannot believe that I thought you would appreciate my gratitude." When his smile only grew wider, she lowered her voice and said forcefully, "You don't know a thing about me." With that, she walked over and boldly yet still somewhat gently grabbed Darcy's face, kissing her on the lips. Afterwards, Sydney gave Loki a piercing look. She turned on her heel and walked out, leaving everyone in the room, including Natasha and Clint who were obviously paying more attention than previously thought, slightly dumbstruck.

After blinking a couple of times, Darcy raised a fist triumphantly and grinned, "I'm so sexy smexy that even the lesbians love me. I rule!" Clint snickered until receiving a nasty look from Natasha, but even then he couldn't wipe the smile off his face.

Thor looked from the door through which Sydney exited to Loki and Darcy. Obviously confused, he murmured, "Verily? Lady Sydney is a Sappic maiden?"

* * *

§

* * *

"You're an ass," said Sydney before Loki even materialized.

"I'm the god of lies," Loki said. He walked over to her window of her bedroom and stood there, unmoving. His posture was upright yet unconstrained, and his hands were clasped loosely behind his back. It took a moment for Sydney to realize that he was watching her in the reflection of the glass. He had a slight smile on his face, like a wolf might observe its prey.

Sydney rolled her eyes, "I don't see the difference. Give yourself any 'godly' title you want. You are still an immature ass."

"I'm older than you could possibly imagine."

"So. Am. I." She glared at him. "You and Thor are not Gods! You're born, you live, and you die, just as humans do."

"Give or take five thousand years," he sneered. Loki turned around to face Sydney, exhaling loudly. "I am 1073 years old," he huffed.

Sydney tilted her head, strumming her fingers against her thigh. Finally, she stopped and narrowed her eyes, "I see. Well then, it all makes sense now. You're barely more than a child."[26]

Ignoring this latest barb at his expense, something Sydney said earlier caught Loki's attention. "And how many years do you have under your belt, nursling?" he asked.

Her confidence drained away with that question. "I don't know," she replied honestly. "Something happened to me. I can't describe it. I'm still trying to come to terms with..." Sydney's lip quivered and she rubbed her temples.

Loki's face softened, ever so slightly. He sat down next to Sydney. He was close, but he wasn't touching her. "Time was different for you while you were sleeping than it is here?"

"Yes."

"I understand. I truly do."

"How?"

He shrugged.

"Stop being an ass and tell me," she whispered. "Please."

Loki stood up and started pacing. "_I will not show you all of my memories of the Other, but I will share some of them with you._" He walked back to Sydney and held out his hand, "Do I have your permission?"

"Okay." Sydney took his hand and a barrage of images passed through her mind. She gasped and tried to pull away, but Loki pulled her upright and closer to him.

"_Stay with me, please. I need to show you this._"

"_This is... oh goddess... This is what happened to you? This is horrible._" The memories continued to flow into her mind. She swayed in Loki's arms. To anyone watching, it would seem like they were dancing slowly.

"_I know, and I'm sorry._" Sydney's knees buckled, but Loki held her up. When the onslaught of images slowly ceased, he looked down and was surprised to see her crying... for him. He then told her the rest before he could be moved to not cause her further distress, "_He would slice my skin to ribbons and tear the flesh from my bones until there was nothing left. Then suddenly, he would heal me. I would be whole again, and the pain would have dissolved... just in time for him to start all over. Each time, the Other would whisper in my ear how much he needed me on his side. How much he wanted my fealty. He would promise the end to my suffering, an army of Chitauri warriors and a realm to rule if I would simply swear my allegiance to him. You know the rest; I gave in to him, obviously._"

_"Loki, you were his prisoner for months. You held out longer than anyone else could possibly have._"

Loki laughed bitterly, "_No, time works differently in Chitauri space. Well, the perception of time works differently. In the Nine Realms, less than a year had passed, but there..._" He paused, closing his eyes and reliving painful memories for a second time, "_While I was there, two centuries passed. It felt like I was tortured decade after decade, and every new day I saw him I spat in his face and cursed him. Finally, I gave in to him. I couldn't do it anymore. I couldn't. Then he gave me that scepter and an army. My heart was full of hate, and I was filled with the need for vengeance against my brother. I had forgotten the love of my mother and brother for me. The things I did to conquer the throne of Asgard._"

"_I don't understand. I thought you came to conquer Earth._"

"_I put Midgard in peril to distract Thor. The Chitauri army would have been too much for the people of your world. You would have been conquered, and Asgard would have come to your aid, weakening their defenses. Then one man died, and your heroes banded together. I was taken home in disgrace. It was over. I was ready... I was prepared to die. If I were not executed by Odin, then Thanos or the Other would have ended my life in punishment for my failure._"

"_What changed? Why did you decide to live and seek amends?_"

"_I saw my mother cry._" Loki's face clenched in an apparent attempt to rid himself of the memory. Frigga's tears had made him realize how far he had fallen into insanity.

"_So you're saying that she _is_ your mother."_

"_I... I've never doubted her love for me._" They stood swaying slowly for several minutes. Loki lifted up her chin to look at him, "So you see, I understand how time was different. For both of us, time passed..."

"_Yet we didn't age a day_," she finished. Loki nodded. "I was in that... that _box_ for eighteen years, but the more I remember... the more I make sense of what happened..." She sniffed, "_Loki, I think that I was beyond the veil for a long time... for centuries._"

"_At the very least... that is my guess. Our minds aged, but our bodies did not._"

"_I'm glad you understand. It's nice to feel less... alone._" Sydney squeezed Loki in a hug. He stiffened against her, but he didn't push her away. She smiled up at him, "I'm sorry I called you an ass, even if you are one."

Loki laughed, this time the good humor in his expression reached his eyes. "You had every right, my lady. Come, I need to talk to you about what I saw... well, rather what I _felt_, on the balcony earlier."

* * *

§

* * *

[24] **Egads! Has anyone ever paid attention to the lyrics of Paula Abdul's _Cold Hearted_? I think she was singing about Loki, hence the name of this chapter. You may have noticed, but I also forced a few lyrics into the dialogue of this chapter. Don't judge me; it was absolutely necessary for me to pay homage to Paula's 1989 brilliance... for Loki's sake.**

[25] **In both the Norse mythology stories _and_ in the comics, Sif had long beautiful golden hair as a child... until Loki cut it all off during a prank and left her as bald as a coot. ****Obviously, this angered Thor, and so Loki got some dwarves to make Sif new hair out of actual gold. Which would have worked swimmingly except that Loki unfortunately ticked off the dwarves, who in retaliation then turned Sif's new locks black. Fortunately, we all agree that Jaimie Alexander would never look as good as a blonde.  
**

[26] **Okay, I posted another 'story' called _Loki: Lover of Fidelity, Appendixes_. Basically, I wanted to share something regarding Asgardian aging that was too long for a footnote. Please read, because I solemnly swear that this appendix is magnificent. You can find the link on my profile page.**


	16. The ones you trust can hurt you the most

**Author's Note**

**First, my thanks to a follower for kindly pointing out that error in Chapter 14. There is humor to be found from my having a mistake in that chapter... yes, that one... you know... where I stated I was going to work harder on my grammar. I don't know... a _tense_ humor, at least ;-)**

**Seriously though, I truly appreciate any and all feedback. Be it good (Whoop! Hullabaloo caneck caneck!), bad (thanks for pointing out what I got wrong) or ugly (ok, I'm not actually a _big _fan of flaming trolls, but at least they've learned how to read). Not that I've actually had a troll tell me that this story was unfit for any place but hell. Well... yet.**

****Sections entirely in _italics_ denote flashbacks. **Dialogue in both "_italics and quotations_" denote telepathic conversations. Numbers in [brackets] denote footnotes, which you can find at the bottom of the chapter. Nothing from the Marvel universe is mine.**

**~ Refictionista, October 14, 2014  
**

* * *

§ **Chapter XV **§  
the ones you trust can hurt you most

* * *

Loki and Sydney were back out on the tower's balcony searching for any residual traces of magic left by the presence he had felt earlier that morning. The air had a smell of imminent rain. It was now mid-afternoon, and low grey clouds had begun to form overhead. Everything seemed darker, in more ways than one.

"It was here. This is where I felt it first," said Loki, straightening up from his crouched position and pointing to the patterned tiles beneath him.

"Loki, I was standing right there," Sydney responded, frowning. She walked over next to him and looked around her. "Yeah, just about here. This is where I was when you vanished."

He scoffed, "I know what you're thinking, and it wasn't and isn't your magic I sense." Loki gave her a patronizing stare.

"Don't give me that look. If you must know, I wasn't questioning you. I can tell that you are giving me the truth. I was questioning how _I_ didn't sense this presence you felt." She crossed her left arm across her chest and turned around, spreading the fingers of her right hand out to feel the air around her. Sydney creased her brows in concentration.

Her back to him, Loki inhaled the subtle perfume of her hair. An involuntary and unexpected frisson passed through him when he recognized the scents of pears and green apples, likely from the products she used while bathing. It almost distracted him from her earlier comment. How was it that she had claimed to discern his honesty? Loki was hesitant to believe such a statement without more proof. He was the god of lies, after all. A mere human couldn't detect such things... though the Romanoff woman did trick the truth out of him that one time.

_And this lady is no mere human mortal like that mewling quim._

He cleared his head of such thoughts. "Perhaps because t'was not your Midgardian magic."

Sydney spun around sharply to face him with a questioning look. "But I can sense magic in you, and your magic isn't from here."

"That's different. You _expect_ to sense my magic. Does it not seem completely different than any other magic you have felt before?"

She tilted her head and closed her eyes. She inhaled deeply and swallowed twice. "Yes. It has a different... taste. I can smell something different as well."

"Taste?" Loki smiled. "What does it taste like?"

"Fruit or... berries maybe at first, but... no, wait... more complex than that." Sydney took a deep breath again and licked her lips. "Smooth, lightly metallic and minty. Crisp. It reminds me of a glass of Merlot."

He laughed. "I find that to be a worthy description."

"What? That your magic reminds me of red wine?"

"That it feels complex."

"Ah." She walked around a few steps and started to focus this time harder for foreign magic. "Does my magic have a taste?"

"Yes," Loki answered distractedly. He hadn't moved and was concentrating on the ground before him. After scratching the tile a couple of times with his boot, he frowned and made a small gesture with his hand. Dust swirled and cleared from the tile in front of him. "It wasn't just here in this spot, but it was on the ground here first, covering this location in a thin layer."

Sydney walked back over to him. It started to rain, a light sprinkle at first, but then heavy droplets began to fall, cold and wet. She looked up and smiled. Quietly, she whispered, "Like Rain it sounded till it curved."[27] Sydney raised a hand and the rain parted above them. A large bubble grew around them, protecting them from the rain. Rivulets and spatter created a perfect dome over the balcony.

One side of Loki's mouth curved upwards. "Well now, I like this. You have an excellent mastery of your element."

"Thanks. It's a water trick my aunt once taught me. I've never cast it so strong before," Sydney said looking up in awe.

Loki hunched down again. "It is good that you acted quickly. The rain doesn't seem to have washed away the evidence." He pointed back to the same spot, "Do you see the shimmer?"

Sydney squinted, "I don't... Okay, yes. I see it." She saw a dark, gritty sheen on the tile that before hadn't been there. She looked towards the railing. "It started here and ending about there," she pointed. "It's concentrated on this spot, but I see that same sheen almost everywhere out here. Wow. Now that I see it, I can't _not_ notice it. Even in the air around us. It's..." she hesitated, searching for the right word. "Thick, oily yet abrasive. So gross. Tastes awful."

"Agreed."

"What does all this mean?"

"Some_thing_ was watching you," Loki said. His green eyes flashed with a look Sydney could only describe as predatory. He took her in from head to toe, as if trying to discern what possible interest she could have held to the dark presence he felt that morning. "I think it was hiding, pretending to be your shadow. I merely felt it first, and the shade faded away as soon as I looked for it."

"You vanished to chase it," Sydney said. It wasn't a question. She was also wondering why this thing would be watching her.

He nodded, "Come, we will find no further traces."

"Time to go inside and tell the others?"

"I would prefer to merely corroborate what you tell them if need be."

Sydney sighed, but then pursed her lips and nodded in agreement. To her credit, she believed everything he had told her but didn't try to argue with him that the others would afford him the same courtesy. They walked together towards the entryway.

"Sweet, juicy, soft on your tongue, grainy like a sugary sand that dissolves in your mouth."[28]

"What?" asked Sydney.

"That's what your magic tastes like to me," he clarified.

She smiled.

"I find that taste rather disconcerting," he said, holding the door open for her. "It leaves a lingering odor."

Her smile fell, and so did the bubble behind them. The rain began to shower down unhindered in great sheets on the balcony's tiles.

* * *

They went back to the training room. Thor was demonstrating Asgardian combat techniques to Agent Barton, while the Black Widow had joined Darcy Lewis on the sidelines. The two women were laughing, not really paying much or even any attention to the bout in the ring.

Dr. Bergström cleared her throat, "Thor, Clint. Can we talk to y'all? It's important." She made eye contact with Romanoff, "You too, Natasha. Please."

"Lady Sydney, verily! How may I be of service?" Thor's loud voice almost made her wince. Believing him to be distracted, Barton tried to knock Thor's legs out from beneath him.

Barton wasn't successful. Thor twisted around to swing the archer up and over; Barton was no match to Thor's superior weight and strength. He landed on his back in the ring with an _ooomph_, the golden god smiling broadly above him.

"Thor, please don't break him," hollered Darcy.

"Fear not. I would never truly harm a favored friend."

"Good to know," Barton wheezed as Thor helped him up to his feet. He rotated his arm in his shoulder and cracked his neck back and forth. Barton gave Loki a sneer in a passing glance, and then gave the lady doctor his full attention. "What's up, doc?"

"This morning..." she began. She told them the full story of what Loki had discovered out on the balcony and their suspicions. When she finished, she noticed that Barton and Romanoff seemed highly skeptical. Thor stroked his jaw appearing thoughtful; the expression was out of place and unusual on his face. Darcy was still on the bench behind them, playing on her phone, but she was sure the girl was listening to their every word.

"Have you felt this selfsame magic before, brother?" asked Thor.

She could feel the instinctive feeling of denial and the sharp rise in anger rising in Loki. _Please don't say you're not my brother. Please don't say you're not my brother. Please don't say..._

"You are not my brother." Loki and Thor glared at each other.

_Why am I not surprised?_ she thought. "_Loki, enough. Please,_" she mentally asked him. Neither Loki nor Sydney noticed Thor turning to Sydney with a look of surprised awareness. "_You can argue the status of your relationship with him all you want. Just... later._"

Loki turned his glare on her, and then sighed. "_Fine,_" he said both in their minds and aloud. "Yes, I've felt such magic before." He rubbed the bridge of his nose between his fingers. "It was during a particularly nasty period of my life after you tossed me into an abyss," he said to Thor.[29]

_Damn._

"I _never_ did you such a dishonor! I remember _you_ releasing your grip on the spear after my desperate attempt to catch you. I recall you _choosing_ to fall into the wormhole created by the Bilröst's energy!"

"Stop!" Dr. Bergström yelled as she saw Loki begin to shout a retort to Thor. She knew Loki was lying, but that _he_ couldn't see it. _Dear goddess, he was lying to himself. _The depth of all Loki's bitterness and rage had physically pained her, like tiny needles poking and stabbing all over her body. She remembered at that momentall that Loki had told her earlier, and she saw that same madness he spoke of and how it wasn't entirely gone... if it ever had been. It was still there, just bottled up inside. "Please," she said more softly, "just stop. Both of you." She turned to Loki and placed a hand gently on his forearm, "Continue. _After_ what happened at the Bifröst."

He glared at her hand, but she didn't remove it. He shrugged it off and then exhaled loudly through his nose several times. "_Don't ever lay hands on me again._ _I will not be coddled like a child_."

"_I wasn't. Your anger is palatable. I can feel it and it hurts me, Loki. I was trying to share some of my peace of mind with you. I wanted the pain to stop. I still want it to stop. Please._"

He blinked. He could see tear-rimmed blue eyes staring back at him, pleading. Eyes such a light shade of blue that they were almost grey. Her face was washed in a dull red and her teeth were clenched tightly.

In his mind, Loki saw Frigga's tears once again. His mother. Begging. _Please my son, don't make things worse._ His mother's words echoed in his mind.

He took half a step backwards and shook his head. He inhaled slowly and continued, his tone now much improved. Facing Thor again, he continued, "While I was held by Thanos and the Other, I encountered several Kree. It was the essence of one of them that I felt this morning."

"Br.. Loki, the Kree has never been to this realm," said Thor.

"What's a Kree?" asked Darcy.

"The Kree are a race that hail from the planet Hala, a world beyond Yggdrasil," said Thor.

"You will need to explain them to us a little bit more," said Romanoff.

Loki rubbed the side of his face in weariness. "They are blue-skinned aliens. Technologically advanced and extremely militaristic, yet barbaric savages. Their magic reeks of iron rust and oil."

"And you think one of these things was watching you, specifically? Why not him?" Barton asked Sydney, not acknowledging Loki. "He was the one _working with them_ before."

Loki felt a small hand dart out and hold him once again on his forearm. This time he didn't knock it off him. "We... I don't know," he said after a moment.

"Well, then... Some great help you are."

The look of defeat crossed Loki's face so quickly that Sydney would have missed it had she not felt it as well. He stoically responded, "Agreed. I have nothing left to contribute to the conversation. As such, I feel I should retire to my chambers for the evening." He gave the lady doctor a brief nod and stepped out of the room.

Barton visibly relaxed after Loki's departure. "Let's go find Steve and discuss this with Fury." He turned to Dr. Bergström, "Sydney, stay with Natasha until she or I say otherwise." He glanced at Agent Romanoff, who nodded in agreement. Thor and Barton left the room.

Romanoff turned to the young brunette still sitting on the sidelines, "Darcy, can I please have a moment alone with Sydney?" She smiled with a look of hopeful understanding.

"Sure thing." Darcy hopped up, "Sydney, I hope you don't have a creepy alien stalking you in the shadows. 'Cause that would really suck."

"Thanks."

Darcy exited the room, leaving the last two behind by themselves.

* * *

§

* * *

_"Sydney, how exactly did you get here?"  
_

_"Nice to see you too, Aunt Blanche."_

_"Of course dear, lovely to see you. As always. Now, before I offer you some lemonade and cookies, you are going to answer me. How did you get here?"_

_"Slipped past the doorman. Took the elevator to the sixth floor. Knocked on your door. You then opened it, and _voilà!_ Here we are."_

_"Sydney!" Blanche had no idea how her eleven year old niece had arrived in Colorado Springs, but she wasn't budging until the girl told her._

_The girl shifted uncomfortably and mumbled something._

_"What was that? Speak up, young lady. I couldn't hear you."_

_Sydney pulled on one of her pigtails. "I said... that I may have taken one of Daddy's Harleys. Just a little one, the Sportster. Superlow."_

_"You drove on the freeway! On a motorcycle!" Blanche exclaimed, clutching her chest._

_"Yes, ma'am."_

_"He taught you how to ride a motorcycle? What was that man thinking?" Blanche had progressed from shock to anger._

_"No, but he did once tell me that it would be the safest thing ever to get between my legs."_

_Blanche squared her shoulders. "Your... father," she nearly spat the word out, "said that?" _

_"Yes, and he was right. I figured out how to ride it quickly enough and then I got here all on my own. Safely. I wore a helmet."_

_Sydney shifted nervously from foot to foot while Blanche stared at her open-mouthed, saying nothing._

_"Aunt Blanche, please. Please, don't make me go back there."_

_The older woman sighed, "Dear goddess... I'm going to have to call your stepmother; she's probably worried sick."_

_"Katrina knows."_

_"She knew you were going to ride here by yourself all the way from Texas!?"_

_"No, of course not. She probably would have tried to stop me if she knew _that_. I think she's been worried a long time. She asked me a while back how I would feel about staying with you. I decided last night to leave. I put a note in Beth's backpack this morning before I walked her to preschool; Katrina would have found it by now, if she didn't find it right after school got out. I told her that she was right and that I had already left to stay with you."_

_"This was Katrina's idea?"_

_"She said that if we couldn't find a way to stop making Daddy angry at me, then maybe it would be better if I could get away."_

_Blanche felt her heart rate rising again, but somehow she was oddly calm now. "I see," she said softly. "I'm still going to call her. I need to speak with your stepmother privately, dear. Why don't you take your things to the spare room and get settled."_

_Sydney looked over at the antique grandfather clock in the entryway and hugged herself. "Do it soon, Aunt Blanche. Daddy gets off from work in about an hour."_

* * *

§

* * *

"Can I have a word with you?" Natasha said quietly.

"Should I be worried that you sent out Darcy?" Sydney asked. Natasha's aura had the same vibe as when she would be on the receiving end of one of Aunt Blanche's lectures. The scary redheaded woman said nothing; she just stood there with her feet solidly shoulder width apart, doing nothing yet radiating intimidation. Sydney covered a gulp with a sigh, "Just kidding. Of course, what is on your mind?"

"What's the story between you and Loki?" Natasha quipped without preamble.

"The... _story_?"

"What is going on between the two of you?"

Sydney immediately thought of the telepathic communication she and Loki had shared, and how Loki warned her not to let the others know of her ability. Natasha narrowed her eyes on Sydney.

"What is it that you don't want to tell me?"

"Something that I don't want to tell you, perhaps," Sydney blustered.

It shouldn't have been possible, but the slits of Natasha's eyes narrowed even further. "Do you know what happens to him when he goes back to Asgard?"

"What do you mean what happens?"

Natasha paused and her face softened, but she didn't answer Sydney's question. Instead, she asked another, "How would you describe a romantic relationship with him?"

"A diversion. That I do not engage in." Sydney felt cornered. Aunt Blanche had nothing on Natasha. Sydney tried to smile, but the expression was wasted on the scary redhead. Sydney also noticed that every few moments, Natasha scanned the exits of the room. The agent's sense of humor was not present and accounted for right now, nor would it likely come.

"Look, it isn't anything like that. At the very most we're friends. Maybe. I don't know if I would go that far, because I don't think Loki has friends."

"He likes you."

"Nooo... he flirts with me in public to annoy me and sometimes other people as well. In private, we talk. We just talk." _For crying out loud, I smell 'disconcerting' to him.  
_"And until this afternoon, we never talked about anything I would deem important. I've had two heavy conversations with him in the past two hours, and that is two more than we've ever had before. What happens to him in Asgard?"

Once again, Natasha didn't answer Sydney's question. The agent stood there, accessing Sydney as if trying to come to a decision. She finally sighed, "Look, I think you're a nice person, okay?"

"Thanks... You're... impressively formidable. In a good way."

Natasha smiled, a real one. Her whole face seemed a decade younger. "He _likes_ you," she repeated. She held up a hand when Sydney inhaled to respond. "I don't know. It could be as simple as the fact that you two share an ability with magic. Maybe you remind him of his mother; Thor told me that she taught Loki most of what she knows when it comes to magic."

"Ugh. That's just..."

"Freudian?"

"I was going to say gross."

"It doesn't matter why. I repeat. He likes you. There are those out there who have it out for Loki."

"Yeah, maybe the bad guys like this creepy Kree stalker."

"Yes, like that. But I'm not referring necessarily to those kind of threats You're more vulnerable that most of us here." She shook her head sadly. "You could easily be the target of someone trying to get to Loki through you," she paused expectantly.

_Or something trying to get to him, like this Kree_, thought Sydney. However, she was pretty sure Natasha didn't mean that. _So, who then? _Sydney thought of Clint Barton, but she knew he wouldn't do anything to her. Loki possibly, but not her. _Someone else though..._

"You mean even the good guys," said Sydney. "Like someone in S.H.I.E.L.D.," she drew each word out slowly, as if they tasted foul in her mouth.

"I don't know of anyone who has access with enough of a grudge to be a problem. Director Fury would never sanction anyone under his command to harm Loki. Plus, Steve likes you. Banner likes you. You have friends here, me included," Natasha disclosed. She smiled again, "But it would only take one determined person hellbent on revenge to get past us... and the director wouldn't hesitate to use you if he felt he could manipulate Loki through you."

"Director Fury _did_ harm me before, so don't try to tell me that he would never hurt me," Sydney clenched her fists, remembering the interrogation room and _Agent_ Fury handcuffing her to the table. "Whatever. Anyway... Loki right? You don't have to warn me off him. It not like that between us."

"The truth doesn't matter when it comes to you. Perception is what should matter to you."

"I see. I do. I understand what you're saying," acknowledged Sydney. "Look, it's not like I haven't had the same thoughts. I just know now that I'm not the same girl I was when I first got introduced to this crazy mess." She straightened up and squared her shoulders, "I'm not weak, anymore. It would also be very hard to manipulate or control me without my consent."

"I never doubted it."

"You just felt like we should have this talk though."

"Yep. I told you. You're a nice person." Natasha smiled, a real one again. "I don't consider many people my friends. It may be a very short list, but you're on it."

"Thanks."

Natasha nodded. It was obvious that she considered the matter closed. "Hungry?"

"I am. Let's go."

* * *

§

* * *

[27] **More Emily Dickinson... hmm... there has been a shocking lack of her poetry lately.**

[28] **Yeah, I admit that I stole that line directly from _City of Angels_... word for word. I thought about tweaking it like I do with all of my other (non Marvel) pop culture Easter Eggs, but I couldn't. I've always loved that description of how a pear tastes. _Hmm... I should embroider that on a pillow. _Anyway... Nothing from that movie is mine either.**

[29] **This is one of the things that bugs me about _Avengers_: Loki telling Thor that he remembers Thor "tossing him into an abyss" when _Loki let go_ and Thor says nothing in return! C****onsidering the significant trauma Loki went through both during the event and between what happened in _Avengers_, I think it actually makes a lot of sense that his memory of how events transpired would've been corrupted. Memory is an _extremely_ unreliable beast under the best of circumstances, and his were… decidedly not the best. ****That's not how it happened, definitely. That doesn't mean it's not how he _remembers_ it... And I think as a brother, Thor should have done everything in his power to make him see the truth.**


	17. You've witchcraft in your lips

**Author's Note**

**Okay, the good news (as you have probably guessed by the title)... this chapter has limey Loki goodness! Whoop! The bad news? Ha! What bad news? This is awesome.**

**Sections entirely in _italics_ denote flashbacks. Dialogue in both "_italics and quotations_" denote telepathic conversations. Nothing from the Marvel universe is mine.**

**~ Refictionista, October 16, 2014**

* * *

§ **Chapter XVI **§  
you have witchcraft in your lips

* * *

After finishing his conversation with the others, Thor went straight to Loki's room, opened the door without preamble and walked inside. He found his brother reclining on his bed, leisurely reading a book.

"Thor," said Loki not bothering to look up as he turned a page, "Am I not to be afforded the modest curtsey of a knock before you enter my quarters?"

"My apologies. I had no idea I would disturb you whilst you had such important matters to attend."

"Your sarcasm is juvenile and prolongs our interaction. What do you want?"

"To task you with your next services to this realm."

Loki stopped pretending to read, as he had no intention of losing his place. "I see. Has your precious S.H.I.E.L.D. found a 'select mission' finally for me? Ever since claiming to consider this, I have done nothing but maintain a state of utter boredom."

"Do your books not interest you?"

"Is that how I am to while away eternity? Reading while I continually wait to suffer Odin's pleasure again and again?"

"No."

Loki raised an eyebrow.

Thor ran a hand over his head, "As I said, I have come to you with a task. I offer you the chance to earn your recompense by using the talents you are so well known for."

"Oh Odinson, your flattery will get you everywhere."

Thor smiled, "The others ask you look into the source of the magic you felt. You are to take no action without my knowledge, but you are free to conduct an investigation."

Loki gave Thor a large smile in return and carefully marked his place in the book he was reading. "When do I start?"

"As soon as you are ready, though I would prefer it if you could wait until after our return from Asgard. Remember that we leave on the morrow."

"Of course, as if I could forget," Loki sulked. "For when we return... though... For this task, I might need some help. Perhaps, even a second opinion to assist in assessing the magic."

Thor stood still, but then the big blonde behemoth stood up even straighter than before and crossed his arms over his broad chest.

"Brother..." Thor began in a cautionary tone.

"I am not..."

"You call me an oaf, but I am no simpleton," interrupted Thor. He enunciated each word spoken more clearly than the one before. "Watch your schemes with the Lady Sydney," he warned. "I know not why you lately seek to anger her, but she is a sweet maid and a friend of Lady Jane's. I jest not. Others have taken heed of your interactions with her."

"I can only assume you are referring to that bleeding heart, Captain America," Loki scoffed.

"He has voiced his concerns to me, yes."

"You should recognize his actions for what they are. That boy treats her as a protective older brother would to a younger sibling. But, unlike us, he does so because he would not know what to do with a wench even if she begged him," Loki laughed. He began absently twirling a pen through his fingers. "Would you treat the Lady Sif thusly? Like her, this lady has no need of a champion. She is more than capable of defending herself."

Thor didn't point out that Loki almost called them brothers, but he set aside the glimmer of hope for later. "She should need not to do so," he argued. "And Sif is one of the fiercest warriors our realm has ever known. You cannot compare their abilities."

"I think you would be surprised," said Loki.

* * *

§

* * *

_"Enter," said Director Fury, not looking up from his reports._

_Margaret, his no-nonsense assistant, strode into the office. "Sir," she said primly, "Captain Rogers has arrived and is here to see you now."_

_"Send him in," said Fury._

_She stepped outside, leaving the door slightly open. Steve Rogers walked in a few seconds later, and the soldier was not looking happy. Not at all._

_"That will be all, Margaret," Fury said. The assistant left again, shutting the door behind her. Fury tossed his tablet on his desk. "Have a seat, Cap. You're late," he said. "You remember Agent 13, Sharon Carter."_

_A blonde woman about his age, or at least his age relatively since he was technically 96, sat in chair off to the side. "Captain," she said._

_She noticed that he didn't smile at her like he had before. "Neighbor," he responded. Rogers stood behind the seat in front of Fury's desk, "Sir, she just woke up days ago, we just got here, and I'm not comfortable leaving her alone, so I would rather help Miss Ber..."_

_"Captain Rogers, I said sit the fuck down." Fury narrowed his eye on the younger man, who then sat down. Soldiers usually followed orders in the end._

_Carter watched the silent pissing match between Rogers and Fury, wondering for the dozenth time why she was here. After Rogers had found out that she was assigned to monitor him, their neighborly friendship had gone up in flames. Literally. He had since let her know, in the absolute politest way possible after their floor of the apartment building blew up, that he wasn't a fan of hers anymore._

_"Agent, I need to get your help getting up to speed on a situation that Captain Rogers has already been briefed on for several days."_

_"Yes, sir," she said. Carter noticed that Director Fury's face was a completely stoic mask, while Captain Rogers had stiffened at the mention of whatever situation he already knew about._

_Fury picked his discarded tablet back up and began to read. "Agent Sharon Elizabeth Carter. Level Six. Born in 1985 to Gavin and Katrina Carter at Baptist St. Anthony's Hospital in Amarillo, their first and only child together. Your father, widowed two years prior, had one child from his previous marriage, and your mother, a divorcée, had two children from her previous marriage. Went to Texas Tech, where initially you wanted to go into medicine. Though I'm guessing at some point you changed your mind about nursing, because you were then recruited to the S.H.I.E.L.D. Academy. Incidentally, your instructors there all gave you glowing recommendations. Congratulations, few cadets ever managed that. You've been with us ever since."_

_"Sir," she looked at Rogers, who seemed equally bewildered as she felt. "Where is this going?" Carter wondered if something troublesome had come up from one of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s routine background checks._

_Fury didn't answer. "Tell me, Sharon. Do you keep in contact with your sisters?"_

_"Sir, if this is about my security clearance..."_

_"It is a simple enough question, Agent. Do You. Keep in contact. With. Your. Sisters?"_

_Five seconds passed. Carter blinked and nodded, adjusting her position in her chair. Carter took a deep breath. "I talk with Anna a few times a year. Birthdays. Holidays. Sometimes when things have popped up regarding the estate. She came to New York two years ago to go shopping, and we shared an awkward and uncomfortable lunch together at Tavern on the Green, so she could tell everyone she ate there. I had the lobster bisque, and that was the best part of the hour we spent together. I don't contribute to her standing in society, so... yadda yadda yadda, she doesn't put much effort into our relationship. I haven't seen Drusilla since I graduated from college, and I've spoken with her over the phone exactly twice since then. Both conversations were... loud. With the exception of some of the terrorists I've had to deal with as a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, she is probably the vilest woman I know."_

_"And the other one?"_

_"I'm sorry. Sir, I don't understand..."_

_"Your other sister."_

_Carter's head jerked up, and she pursed her lips. "Sir, if you mean... Sir, my... Sydney _died_. Years ago." Carter turned to Steve when she heard his sharp intake of breath. "God, almost twenty years ago. I'm sure that came up during my background check. Is this about Sydney?"_

_Fury steepled his fingers thoughtfully. "Tell me about her."_

_Agent Carter had no clue where this line of questioning was going. "She was my idol growing up; I wanted to be just like her. I loved her more than anyone else in the world. She was the sweetest, kindest and funniest big sister... I was lucky to have her. She was a child prodigy; I was seven years younger, and so I thought she was the smartest person on the planet. She left to go live with a distant aunt when I was about four years old, so that she could go to college. She had graduated high school and was already attending college by the time I was in kindergarten. God, I think she was maybe eleven at the time. Once she was old enough, she would drive down to visit me sometimes during the summer... if our father was out of town. Daddy said Sydney reminded him too much of his first wife. She used to wear her hair in these amazing crown braids that made her look like she had a halo. Right after she turned nineteen, she about to get a PhD. I had plans to go see her as a surprise to celebrate her becoming a doctor. I hadn't seen her in ages, and I had never been more excited in my life. Then she died two weeks before my trip. There is_ rarely_ a day I don't think about her_."_ Carter seemed impassive for the most part, but Rogers noticed one white knuckled grip on the arm of her chair out of Fury's view._

_"Thank you, Agent Carter. That is all. You can go now." Fury dismissed her. Behind them, Margaret opened the door as if on cue and stood there waiting for the agent to exit Fury's office._

_Sharon Carter tried to hide the shock from her face but failed. She used both hands to steady herself as she got up out of the chair, and then she walked out of the room in a bit of a haze. Margaret closed the door behind them._

_Rogers' gut churned. He wondered if Sydney..._

_"Now, Cap," said Fury, cutting off his thoughts. "Let's you and I have a talk."_

* * *

_"Captain," Sharon said as she sprang up from against the wall where she had been waiting in the hallway. He continued to walk on by her. She reached out to grab his arm. "Rogers, please. I want to talk to you."_

_He jerked away from her, and then blinked as if suddenly realizing she was there. "You should know already that I can't tell you anything, Agent 13. So why don't you go take a powder?"_

_"No."_

_"No?"_

_"Look. I'm not going to get any answers from Fury." Sharon held her hands up in front of him._

_"You're probably right about that," Steve said, trying to walk off again._

_Sharon stepped in front of him. "But I can get them from you. If you know something about my sister, then I'm going to find out... one way or another."_

_"Even if I hadn't been ordered otherwise, because I have, why would I tell you anything?"_

_"We were friends. Neighbors. Once."_

_Steve crossed his arms. "I don't think so. You just can't stop yourself from lying, can you?"_

_"I didn't lie. I never did. It was a mission."_

_"Well, Agent 13, so is this," Steve snapped. He walked around her, "Excuse me."_

_"Please."_

_"Give me a reason why," Steve said over his shoulder. He had already stormed halfway down the hall._

_"You're a good man."_

_Steve stopped._

_Sharon hurried up to join him. "Please," she begged._

_He turned around slowly and checked up and down the hallway, a useless exercise the entire complex was under video surveillance. "Listen, Kate..."_

_"Kate Tremaine was my mother's maiden name. I used it for my cover when I was... your neighbor. My name is Sharon." She looked him straight in the eye and clenched her fists, "Call me Sharon."_

_"Right, Sharon. Listen, I can't tell you anything now. I want to, I really wish I could, but I can't. I'm sorry" He looked at her. Ah, applesauce. She was an absolute dish, and if she started crying then he knew he was done for. He had no idea what to do when dames cried._

_But, she didn't cry. She just stood there, waiting. Shoulders back, clenched hands clasped behind her. Chin up. A determined look on her face. She stood her ground. Then Steve noticed that those big brown eyes were lined with dark lashes. It reminded him of someone._

Peggy.

_He blinked. Then... the resemblance was gone; it was just a trick of the light._

_She was still waiting._

_"I don't have the authorization or clearance to tell you anything," he sighed. "But when I do... if anything comes up... I promise that I will do everything in my power to let you know."_

_"Captain Rogers, if Sydney has been alive this whole time..."_

_"I wouldn't be able to tell you one way or the other," he said flatly. "However, if my sister _was_ out there, then I hope that someone would look out for her... like how I would."_

_"Like a brother."_

_Steve looked away, but he didn't respond._

_Sharon nodded. "Thank you, Captain. I can't ask you for anything more."_

_"Call me Steve."_

_"Thank you, Steve."_

* * *

§

* * *

Sydney knocked on the door, "Loki, I brought you something to eat." She waited a moment, but he didn't answer her or the door. She knew he was there. "I apologize for disturbing you; I'll just go ahead and leave it outside your door in case you're hungry." She swiped a couple of grapes before leaning over to set the tray down.

"_What do you want?_"

"_Nothing. I came to see if you wanted anything._"

The door opened. Loki stood there in what looked almost like a loose fitting green Henley shirt but with leather laces instead of buttons, and he had on dark trousers and black boots. He almost looked... _non-alien_.

"You may enter, if that is your wish."

His room was so tidy. Sydney had heard from Jane that Thor was an absolute slob and that extra tower staff had to be hired to compensate. _Different as night and day._

His room was odd. First, there were piles of books... everywhere. Stacked neatly in incredibly tall piles and... based on an initial glance... organized meticulously by subject. It also seemed that quite a few subjects interested him. Second, there was something odd about his bed. His thick mattress was over two feet high... at the very least. Then there was something that looked like miniature scaffolding underneath it. And finally...

"Why don't you have any windows?" she asked.

Loki looked at the walls and huffed. "Fury's minions believe I can be better contained if I lacked the glass from which to view outside. They are fools."

"Yet they asked that you look into this Kree problem."

"You heard about that I see," Loki said.

"It was all anyone was talking about over dinner. When Thor left to go tell you, everyone's faces gave away how they wanted to watch and see how you would respond." She shrugged, "I take it you accepted."

"I did. I even asked that you assist me."

She smiled, "Thanks. That sounds like fun."

"Agreed. Though I would have said mildly diverging," his voice was congenial, but his expression was grim. "After telling me, Thor then all but warned me not to besmirch your honor."

Sydney grew wide-eyed and her jaw dropped, but then she busted out laughing.

"Why do you find this amusing?"

"Oh man... Perhaps because I actually just had a similar conversation with Agent Romanoff." Sydney rolled her eyes.

"Perhaps you should listen to her."

"Oh, don't worry. I did," Sydney deadpanned. She sighed when she realized Loki wasn't in a joking mood... _disappointing for a trickster_. She pushed the tray over a little on his desk and then hopped up to sit on top of it, swinging her feet. "Look. I like Natasha, but she only _acts_ like she knows everything." She waited until Loki wasn't looking and stole another one of his grapes.

He walked over to one of his stacks of books and straightened it imperceptibly.

"Don't worry. I told her that we were friends at best."

"You consider us friends?"

The look of amazement on Loki's face was almost heartbreaking. _Was it so hard to imagine her as a friend_, she thought. "I might have. That is until you told me that my odor was disconcerting. Now we're back to _almost_ friends."

"I said no such thing."

"Yes, you did," Sydney insisted. "When you described my magic."

Comprehension passed over him. "That isn't what I meant. The," he paused, "_aroma_ of your magic stays with me even when I am not in your presence. When you are not near, it is like a strange taste in your mouth that you can't explain. Though not an unpleasant one. That is what I find so disconcerting. Puzzling. No, I'll call it intriguing."

_Huh... okay._

"Alright, friends then," she said. "Next time, consider wording something like that in such a way that I don't walk away thinking I remind you of a smelly troll."

Loki shook his head, his green eyes dark and full of speculation. "Trolls smell and look... nothing like you."

"Whoa! Pause and rewind. Trolls are _real_?"

"Of course. Ugly and disagreeable creatures that smell like death. They live high up in the caves of isolated mountains where the climate suits them; I regret each time I had to travel to their territory on one quest or another." One side of his mouth curved upwards, and then Loki raised an arm and made a slapping motion midair with his hand. A crackling noise similar the sound of light bulbs burning out echoed simultaneously from several different directions throughout the room.

Sydney became aware of his magic as the crisp smell of berries and mint wafted around. "What did you just do?" she asked.

"The visual and audio recording devices placed throughout this room have been disabled."

Her heart started thudding ominously in her chest. "Loki, you should turn those back on... the moment they realize they can't see or hear you, we're going to have a dozen armed guards storm through that door. Or Thor." She gasped, "Or Bruce!"

"Firstly, the agreement brokered regarding my recompense to Midgard states that Thor is my gaoler, and he would never approve an incivility, such as this, to the privacy of a prince of Asgard. As I see it, these devices are in direct violation of that agreement." Before Sydney could retort, he closed the distance between them and held up a hand. "Secondly, they _can_ see and hear us. My magic assures that our viewers are currently listening to our _riveting_ discussion about the differences in the climate and weather between our two realms."

Sydney was fairly certain that Loki was standing this close to intimidate her. She took a deep breath, "Okay, but then what about the terms of the agreement? I thought for every bit of magic you used here you then had to pay for when you go back to Asgard. What is so worth talking about _out loud_ that you don't want them to hear?" _Sweet mercy, he smells so good._

"Don't play the fool; it is beneath you. I will _pay_ regardless if I use magic or nay, and the varying degrees of punishment have already blurred together." He leaned forward and rested his hands on the desk, one on each side of her. The desk was tall, but he still towered over her. Then his knee pressed between hers. She looked up and swallowed, then licked her lips. His eyes narrowed as he watched her mouth. "So tell me, sweet lady. What do you think would be worth it?" He looked back up into her eyes.

Sydney had an idea, but she hesitated. When he still didn't move, Sydney made a decision. She leaned forward and kissed him. Softly. Briefly. Just once.

His lips were slightly cold, but his breath was moist and warm. He had remained as still as a statue the entire time.

Loki looked down. He picked up her left hand away from resting on the desk, slowly rubbing her wrist with the rough pad of his thumb on his right hand. Barely able to breathe around her hammering heart, Sydney fleetingly wondered if he was taking her pulse.

Just as she started to back away, Loki pulled her toward him, his left arm tightening around her waist. Sydney gasped as he buried his other hand into her hair and finally kissed her back. Loki ran his tongue along the creases of her lips until she yielded to him with a sigh. He began probing her mouth hungrily.

_Wow._

His hand released her head and trailed down her spine, making her arch her back and push her breasts against him. Sydney thought she heard him growl. His left hand roamed over the curve of her hips and across her thigh. She instinctively parted her knees further and he responded by dragging her even closer.

Sydney's mind ceased producing any intelligible thoughts.

She knew that the kiss only lasted a moment, but it felt longer. _Boy howdy, the man could kiss_. Several minutes passed by the time he broke contact. He left her mouth to slowly work his way across her chin and down her neck. He found a pulse point and started to suckle gently.

Sydney made a sound very much like purr. Loki smiled, she could feel his grin against her skin, and then he nipped at her with a tiny bite.

This time she full-out moaned. Her hands moved up his chest, attempting to scratch him through the fabric. Sydney threaded her fingers through his hair. He began leaning her backwards, but then he pulled away.

_No, don't stop. Crap on a cracker! Why is he stopping?_

"Sydney," he said, her name sounding like a prayer. His eyes were closed, but then slowly he wrinkled his forehead near his brow line. "Thor is coming." Sydney cringed as she then was able to hear the stomping footsteps in the hallway announcing Thor's imminent arrival. Loki's green eyes met her grey ones, and they both turned to look at the door.

Loki faced Sydney again, this time with a hateful sneer on his face as backed away from her. She swayed at the loss of his presence. He picked up his meal and seated himself on the desk next to her. The sturdy piece of furniture groaned under his weight. Loki placed his booted feet on the desk's chair and rested the tray on his thighs. He picked up the cutlery and began cutting the meat with precision and grace, but then he forcefully stabbed a piece... his glare still aimed at her.

Sydney was a bit dumbfounded and wondered if _she_ had angered him. _No._ The resentment on his face as he chewed had to be because Thor was interrupting them. _Right? _A second later Thor opened the door, and her knees felt too much like jelly to allow her to jump down and put some much desired distance between her and Loki.

Thor saw the two sitting together and was startled, but he composed himself quickly enough. "Lady Sydney, how fares your evening?"

"Nothing," she blurted out, answering the wrong question. Thor's arrival and Loki's continued glare had unnerved her. "I mean good. We're just talking about the weather."

Loki huffed, "The girl was the only one who had the courtesy to bring me náttmál, but instead of leaving me in peace to eat she felt it necessary to stay and converse with mundane topics. I need no company to dine, especially if they presume a level of familiarity that allows them to keep taking the fruited berries from my plate."

_Oops._

_"Apparently, I wasn't being sneaky enough_," said Sydney.

"_Did you really think any of your actions escaped my keen?_" Loki asked. Sydney had the distinct impression that he was referring to more than stolen grapes.

Thor looked between the two of them, a disapproving countenance emerging. Loki's snarky attitude apparently wasn't enough to put him off. Sydney was very aware of her swollen lips and wondered how mussed her hair looked. She had no desire for a second _talk_ tonight.

"Right. Well. I guess I'll just leave... the two of you then." Sydney said standing up. Her knees wobbled only slightly at first, but she hid that by leaning on the desk while she pretended to straighten her shirt. She paused at the door to say goodnight to Thor and Loki. Then she walked, as quickly as she could without _actually_ running, back to the safety of her room.


	18. The first step to change is awareness

**Author's Note**

**Sections entirely in _italics_ denote flashbacks. Numbers in [brackets] denote footnotes, which you can find at the bottom of the chapter. Nothing from the Marvel universe is mine.**

**~ Refictionista, October 24, 2014**

* * *

§ **Chapter XVII **§  
the first step to change is awareness

* * *

□ Stark. Back at his mansion in Malibu, likely partying. _check_.

□ Ms. Potts. En route to join him. ETA, two hours. _check_.

□ Drs. Banner, Foster and Bergström. In Banner's lab, doing God knows what with science. _check, check and check_.

□ Captain Rogers. Whereabouts, currently unknown. Cause for concern, negligible. High probability of location being Central Park, sketching.

□ Thor. Retrieving the Tessaract from S.H.I.E.L.D.'s secure storage facility. ETA back at the Avenger Tower, thirty minutes. _check_.

□ His deranged brother. Cause for concern, always and even after hell freezes over. In his quarters, under twenty-four hour surveillance until they leave. _check_.

□ Natasha and Ms. Lewis. Training room with the intention of sparring, chatting instead. _check and check_.

It was Agent Barton's habit to make lists. Perhaps more than a habit, he was a compulsive list-maker. Honest truth be told, he had been one ever since he could remember. Life could not be controlled. Lists could be controlled. He strummed his fingers on the sidearm of his chair. He didn't like Fury's office, though he knew Romanoff did. He allowed himself a fleeting wish that she was here in his place. Hawkeye preferred to be up high and to keep an eye on those around him. Being in an underground vault was the exact opposite of that, and it unnerved him. He was stuck here until Fury got off the phone, but then he and the director still needed to conclude their previous conversation.

Barton began looking around the room without moving a muscle and began making another list to calm his nerves.

□ No windows.

□ One door. Reinforced steel, keycoded lock with a biometric scanner.

□ Two air vents. Only one that has air currently coming out of it. Other in unlikely place to improve circulation in the room, probably fake.

□ Seven drawers. Likely containing both filing and/or weapons.

□ No items of a personal nature.

□ Four flat screen glass monitors, obscured for privacy on his visitor side of the desk.

Barton's compulsive list making was interrupted when he heard the opening click of the office's door behind him. Without turning around, he was able to see the reflection of the deputy director on the monitor screen's rear surface as she entered the room. Maria Hill strode across the office and sat down in the visitor's chair next to him; she too was ignored by Director Fury who was still on the phone.

She nodded slightly at him. "Agent Barton," she said in greeting.

"Commander Hill."

Together they waited silently until Fury signed off from his phone call.

They didn't have to wait long, for the call was ended abruptly. Fury exhaled and tapped an index finger on his desk a couple of times. He turned to Hill, "What have you go for me?"

Hill placed a small box on Fury's desk. "We've made a replica of her iPod. It will be able to scan her surroundings passively once every ten minutes for the whole week they are there. R&amp;D assures me that it is completely undetectable," she said. Hill rolled her eyes, "Another team worked around the clock to forge the decoration she painted on the back. It was surprisingly difficult to match that much glitter."

A corner of Barton's mouth tried to curl upwards, but he caught hold of it before Fury turned his gaze to him and handed him the replica of Darcy's iPod. "As soon as I'm done here, I'll join Romanoff and the girl in the sparring room. The plan is for Romanoff to have her demonstrate her defensive moves to me, and I'm making the switch once her back is turned or Romanoff has her headlock."

"Why make the switch now, Sir?" Hill asked Fury.

Fury nodded to Barton.

"In case, for whatever reason, Thor decides to take Dr. Foster and Ms. Lewis with him this evening," said Barton. "Apparently, Foster has been angling to go and not wait for their next trip."

The deputy director sitting next to him nodded, "Highly unlikely, but I agree. Precautions should be taken. Regardless."

"Containment?" asked Fury.

Hill answered, "Ten people. The three of us, Romanoff, one engineer from R&amp;D and then his two assistants in a limited capacity, and three contracted artists." She visibly cringed at the last part, disdain on her face clearly evident.

"That is a helluva lot higher than I would like." He frowned, "I'm not pleased you had to use outside help for this either."

"It was unavoidable. Ms. Foster will not be permitted to bring any of her scientific equipment, and she isn't planning on bringing anything else with her that would suit our purposes. This was the only device that Ms. Lewis asked to bring, and at this point giving her a brand new iPod would have been too noticeable and highly suspicious. Not to mention that this is a device that not only has Loki seen, but he has held it." Barton gave the two other agents a pointed look, "I know for a _fact_ that were there to be even the slightest change, that bastard would notice it. There's a whole new ballgame when you're dealing with heightened alien senses; absolutely _no detail_ is too small. Also, Thor is going to provide the girl with a container to protect it on their journey, and it is my belief that the device will likely still be inspected upon arrival."

Fury sat back in his chair with his arms folded across his chest. "And the asset?" he asked Barton.

"Romanoff has been giving her self-defense lessons and she has established a sense of trust. I've introduced her to the concept of mindfulness, and I'm teaching her to be more aware of her surroundings. It's the best we can do without proper training, but that would involve her knowing of and agreeing to our goals. Regardless, Romanoff and I are optimistic. Despite the flippancy, she's a smart kid. Good memory skills. We're just working on focus, which is a challenge. I don't think she's ideal and our time frame definitely isn't, but we should be able to get her to return with some sizable intel."

"It would be nice to know more about these aliens. They know a helluva lot more about us than we do about them," said Fury.

"Sneaky bastards are like that."

Fury nodded and relaxed. "Speaking of sneaky... What about this 'presence' at the tower?"

"Sir," said Barton, "this came from _Loki_." Hawkeye said his name as if it caused a bad taste in his mouth and explained everything. "It's a trick. This comes from a bored god of mischief, and that is it. And you know it."

"Sydney corroborated his story," Hill pointed out. "And Thor trusts him."

"Thor's trust in his brother is blind at best," said Director Fury. "Last time I trusted someone, I lost an eye."

Maria Hill wasn't swayed. "No, the last time you _didn't _trust Blanche Bergström, you lost an eye." Fury narrowed his eye at her, but she continued, "I've told Thor to allow Loki to look into this, under his supervision. If he learns anything, then great. If not, then Thor still has an eye on Loki and we've shown their father that we're attempting to work with them as they asked."

Fury frowned at her, "I want to focus our efforts on Ms. Lewis." He turned to Hawkeye, "Keep at it. I look forward to seeing what we can learn."

"Will do. Whatever we learn will be better than the nothing we know right now."

* * *

§

* * *

_Without a doubt, thirteen year old Sydney thought that Aunt Blanche was the meanest teacher that there ever was. Even more so than her organic chemistry professor, a horrid man who always seemed to smell like spicy mustard and dill relish. He had been consistently making his exams more and more difficult in an attempt to thwart the 'know it all infant' in his class. His pushing and challenges only motivated her to study even harder, but others weren't doing so well under the strain. Her fellow classmates were either near begging her to fail the next test or at the brink of an all-out revolt, the latter of which she was sure would be blamed on her. At least with Aunt Blanche she didn't have to worry about angering another apprentice._

_Not that magic came easier to her than science, because it most definitely did not._

_It wasn't that she didn't have an interest in learning from Aunt Blanche. She did. She truly did. It was just that she didn't know why her aunt's latest lesson couldn't be conducted at a lower elevation somewhere else in Pike National Forest. At a stream that didn't take three hours of hiking up a frakin' mountain to reach. One that wasn't reached via a trail that was surrounded by more mosquitoes than was statistically possible._

_She was tired, dirty and her feet were starting to hurt. Sydney was doing her best to take her mind off all of this. Aunt Blanche had forbidden Sydney to bring her Walkman, so she was reciting the periodic table in her head._[30]_ The rhythmic repetition was actually quite soothing._

_Which is why when Aunt Blanche stopped suddenly on top of a rock with her hands on her hips and said, "We're here," that Sydney kept walking forward and smacked her face directly into her aunt's elbow._

_Instead of injecting an 'ouch' or a 'whoops' like a normal person, Sydney blurted out, "35 bromine," without thinking. After a short pause, she mumbled, "79.904," under her breath as she rubbed her aching forehead. She hated to leave something unfinished after all. Her aunt gave her a queer look. She shrugged._

_"Young lady, it would behoove you to pay more attention to your surroundings. Mindfulness is useful in more ways than just making sure that you don't walk into other people."_

_"Yes, ma'am."_

_They had reached Horsethief Falls, and Sydney couldn't help noticing how pretty it was there, despite the elevation's lack of oxygen. Aided by their long hike, the day is already quite warm. The moist soil made the area ideal for rock-loving columbines. It wasn't really a waterfall as she had imagined, more of a flow. The stream's water poured over the kidney shaped granite like a spout. The pool it made was in the deep shadow of the surrounding pine trees, but the water was clear and somehow still reflected the sky's blueness._

_Her aunt leaned over a patch of columbines and scooped up two handfuls of the cool water. She washed her face and hands, and then she motioned for Sydney to do the same. Then her aunt let a small palmful of the remaining water fall gently back into the pool. She knelt gingerly, and Sydney helped the older woman down to her knees. "We have come to ask for the blessing of the stream. We are here with open minds and kind hearts, as witches of the west should be. We will take only what is freely given. So say we all."_

_"So say we all," Sydney repeated._

_They sat in silence for a moment, hearing only the gentle trickle of the water over the rocks._

_"A witch of the west can work with water like no other in the coven," her aunt told her. "It is our element, my dear. You can persuade it to bend to your will, but you must never force it. The older you are the more powerful you can and will become, but remember that your magic is only a guide. All four elements resist arrogance and you cannot control them for your own self-indulgence without dire consequences. All magic comes with a price. Remember that." The intense look on her face was completely serious and the authority in her voice brokered no argument._

_Blanche gestured to the spout of water falling over the rock. "This is one of the strongest sources of water I have ever come across. There is power here, can you feel it?" her aunt asked. Sydney nodded. "I'm going to teach you to make a shield. You likely won't be able to do this anywhere else for a very long time, but regardless of that I want you to learn. Hold your hands out. No, like this. Better. No, keep them out. Now, imagine a shield of water. Concentrate on that image. Repeat after me. 'Like Rain it sounded till it curved.' Yes, that's it."_

_Sydney began chanting. She felt like an idiot. A couple of migrating lark buntings flew down to the water for a drink. The small black songbirds had distinctive white wings, while their females were grayish brown and heavily striped. They hopped about making pretty sounds, stopping to look up at Sydney and her_ _aunt._[31]

Frak me_, thought Sydney_, now I have an audience.

_Nothing was happening. Sydney was certain the birds were watching her, but why they didn't leave the two crazy humans near their source of water was a mystery. Her arms were getting tired, and the sound of running water seemed to put pressure on her bladder. She hated peeing in the woods._

_Blanche noticed Sydney's lapse at the task at hand, "You need to concentrate, Sydney. You have to say the words _and_ imagine a shield. Keep trying, but for goddess' sake, do a better job this time."_

_Repeated attempts went on for thirty minutes. Her aunt started shaking her head, pushing Sydney harder and harder to try over and over again. If she didn't get this right, and soon, then they were going to have to make their way down the mountain in the dark. Then, suddenly, something did happen. There was a ringing in the air, which drowned out the sound of the stream. The colors around her became more vivid and there was a slight sweetness on the tip of her tongue. This time, she held out her hand and the water rose with her. The water encased Sydney in a complete bubble, like a child had used a giant wand and blown one over her. It glistened with hundreds of colors but was incredibly thin and completely transparent, just like soap foam. She laughed with exhilaration._

_One of the sparrows, more curious and courageous than the others, hopped over and pecked at the sphere with his short, thick, bluish bill. He was never closer than a foot away, but the instant he struck out the spell was broken, and the bubble burst with a squishy pop and dissolved into the air around her. The flock of birds quickly flew away, concerned for their wellbeing._

_"Some shield," grumbled Sydney._

_"My dear girl," said her aunt who was clearly pleased, "Well done. Very well done indeed. You won't likely be able to do that on your own again elsewhere, but with enough practice and a coven to help you channel your will over the water... Well... All this has happened before, and all this will happen again. When the time comes, you'll know what to do."_

_"Yes, ma'am." Without a doubt, Sydney thought that her aunt was the most delusional teacher she ever had. She had no idea how she was going to apprentice under her aunt successfully. Science was so much better than magic. Magic made absolutely no sense... and it was just plain weird._

* * *

§

* * *

Darcy couldn't help noticing a sudden coldness that made her feel jumpy. She looked around the training room but didn't see any nearby vents or fans aimed her direction. Sitting on the bench next to her, Natasha had stopped talking and was giving her a critical look. Darcy wasn't surprised when her jumpy behavior resulted in the agent giving off her scary Black Widow assassin vibe.

A shadow moved from behind one of Steve's punching bags in the opposite corner of the room. Darcy watched in shock as the darkness was not created from being behind the bright overhead lights above it. The shadow shifted, dispersed and then coalesced again. As it gradually took shape it emerged next to the practice ring.

It had eyes.

It was _lookin_g right at her!

Darcy yelped like a four year old girl.

In a flash, Natasha was standing with her firearm drawn. "What?" she asked.

"You don't see it?!" squealed Darcy.

The phantom smiled. It had two rows of teeth that were bright against the rest of the shadow; the grin reminded Darcy of a shark. _Would that make her the prey_? Wisps of darkness flowed out of the creature's mouth like saliva drooling from a rabid dog.

Darcy got up and began backing up towards the door. Natasha was looking around wildly.

"Darcy, talk to me. I don't see anything."

"It is right there!" Darcy screamed, pointing towards a space that seemed empty to Natasha. "What the hell is that?"

Clint walked in the room and immediately took out his bow when he saw the situation. Darcy was now half stumbling back to him, and Natasha was armed and frantically searching the room. "What's going on?" he asked hurriedly.

Natasha jerked her head towards Darcy, "She sees something. It scares the crap out of her."

"Where? Is it still here?"

"Darcy?"

"It's over there! Over there! Between the water cooler and the practice ring." Darcy was flinging her wrist repeatedly as she pointed over and again to something the others could not see. "It's a shadow monster with shark teeth!"

Clint's disbelief was evident, but he didn't lower his weapon right away and continued scanning the room. "Tasha, I don't see anything."

"Neither do I, but right before she freaked out I felt the temperature in this room drop at least ten degrees. _Something_ is here. I can feel it."

The phantom smiled again. Rustling noises came from all directions. The three huddled together in the center of the room with their backs towards each other. Now even Clint knew that they were not alone.

"Sssssoon," it said. The voice hissed, slithering into silence like a forked tongue serpent.

The shadow's one spoken word was stilling hanging in the air as the dark shape vanished. Even though all three of them heard the laconic promise, Darcy was still the only one who saw anything. She visibly relaxed, so the two assassins realized it was gone, but they were still in a state of hyper alertness.

From somewhere there was the sound of a door closing. The air noisily flowed out of the vents and the overhead fans clicked rhythmically as they spun around. The loudest sound of all was the heavy breathing of the three still huddled together in the center of the room; two with weapons still drawn and one clutching her hands to her chest.

The shadow was gone, and it was as if it had never been there. Natasha was the first to finally speak. "Are Thor and Loki still here?"

"No," answered Clint. "I came in here to tell you that they both left ten minutes ago."

"Vot der'mo," said Natasha under her breath. She checked the room one more time before bolstering her weapon. "I would have wanted to tell him about this before they left." They both knew who she meant by _him_.

"I know," Clint agreed. "This is _just_ perfect. I really hate that guy. I'd rather put an arrow through Loki's eye socket than ask for his help."

"Then we don't ask," said Natasha. Her statement did little to reassure her two companions when she then said, "Regardless, though... we have to wait a week until they get back and I don't like that."

Clint nodded, not committing to another agreement out loud.

"For a moment I thought I was going to throw up," Darcy babbled. The other two leaned slightly back. "What? That bitey shadow guy was freaking me out!"

Natasha ignored her. She turned to Clint, "Go report this to Fury. I'll grab the witch and have her check the room; she's the best we got until Thor and Loki get back."

_Great_, thought Clint, _back to the director's office tomb_.

The notion being of underground again didn't stop Clint or even slow him down; Hawkeye was already out the door with the Black Widow barely a step behind him. Darcy, realizing she was about to be left in a room where monsters lurk, scampered after them.

* * *

§

* * *

[30] **I cannot believe I've had to update this chapter to explain this, but I've just had _two_ readers ask me the same question. Either some reader(s) are messing with me, or Google must be broken (just kidding, I still love y'all). Anyway, a Walkman is a portable cassette player that you listened to with headphones; they were a big thing in the 1980's. Good grief... the age gap between some of us is quite substantial. That's okay, I'll own it. I've actually dialed a rotary phone, and you don't get to be that old without realizing how fabulous you are.**

[31] **If you're interested in what a lark bunting sounds like, then go to: allaboutbirds DOT org SLASH guide SLASH lark_bunting SLASH sounds (plus, you can see pictures of the pretty birds).**


	19. You wouldn't like me when I'm angry

**Author's Note**

**Still no beta, but I did finally receive one response back saying **_**maybe**_** after Thanksgiving they would have time. I'll keep trying of course to find another one, but until then please feel free to PM me if you find a grammar error (and my thanks for your help in advance). Hopefully, no one will PM me because this chapter is so near perfect that it shines as bright as a thousand suns. Well... One can hope.**

**Also, question for y'all. I just completed a family tree for this story. If shared, it would contain major spoilers (so **_**no**_**, I'm not sharing it right now). Some of these are family relationships I've hinted at, and others **_**OMG guys I have such crazy things in store**_** are coming your way. Regardless, I had originally considered posting it on my tumblr account or as another appendix after the aforementioned spoilers were revealed; however, I just realized that any future readers would have access to the diagram from the beginning. So... Should I wait until the big reveal or should I not post it at all? What is the etiquette here on FanFiction DOT net?**

**Nothing from the Marvel universe is mine.**

**~ Refictionista, October 29, 2014**

* * *

§ **Chapter XVIII **§  
you wouldn't like me when I'm angry

* * *

"Well, that was..." Bruce paused, staring at the results on the screen in complete bafflement.

"Unexpected," finished Jane. She began tapping the end of her pen repeatedly against her bottom lip as she read the data.

The pair hunched eagerly over their workspace in the lab with a puzzle on their hands. Mysteries were the source of all science. They stood rapt in awe, eyes wide, and gave each other looks of amazement and excitement. Usually, that would have piqued Sydney's interest enough to join them.

Usually, Sydney would have joined them the moment she walked in the room.

Instead, she had taken her cup of coffee to a workstation on the opposite side of the lab and had sat there ever since. When Jane had made it back to work after seeing Thor off, she had been about to ask Sydney a question before she saw the look of concentration on Sydney's face. Sydney had earbuds in her ears, a hoodie over her head, and an expression that clearly said _not right now, I'm busy_.

Sydney wasn't actually busy, but she was good at pretending. A similar tête-à-tête had worked when she lived with Eriko. Back then, her bubbly roommate could have been a major distraction while she needed to study, so when the time came to do so Sydney had put on headphones and a hoodie. It was a silent message between the two of them that she needed to block everything else out to focus on the task at hand, and Eriko had been perceptive enough to pick up on Sydney's subtle clues.

Bruce was in his own world when he was in research mode and had been completely oblivious to Sydney's presence when he arrived. He only even knew Jane was there because she went over to talk to him after receiving the _can't talk now, I'm in the middle of something_ vibe from Sydney.

It did have some perks to behave this way. Sydney had made her own coffee this morning. Caffeinated coffee. The hot black swill was the most glorious drink to ever pass her lips. It gave her the illusion that she was actually awake. She had brought the entire carafe into the lab with her, but now she was down to her last cup.

She was resolved from this point forward to wake up earlier than usual to get the real stuff, before Jane and Bruce got to the coffee maker and contaminated it with their decaf beans. This didn't mesh well with her inclination to stay in bed until she smelled the rich aroma emanating from the kitchen. Maybe she could ask J.A.R.V.I.S. for her own coffee maker in her room, one that the house computer could arrange to brew for her automatically.

She looked over at Jane and Bruce. They were laughing, but she still didn't feel like joining them.

_Dear goddess, have I gotten _any_ work done today?_

The problem was Loki, and Sydney had been perfectly happy to stay in the secluded lab until he was gone. She frowned, _how long has Jane been back in the lab_? Bruce and Jane seemed to both be in the middle of something, so she must have come back a while ago.

Sydney looked up at the clock on the wall; it was half past noon. No wonder she was hungry. She had skipped breakfast in her mad haste to get into the lab before anyone noticed her.

Before _Loki_ noticed her.

Sydney realized that Thor's brother was very likely struggling with mental health issues, but he was still an asshole... And she knew that he knew he was being an asshole on purpose. He would talk with her at length in private, but sulk away from any conversation in public. He had flirted with her in front of the others, and then insulted her when they were alone. Okay, granted, he had repaired her hair right after insulting her. She would give him that, but she hadn't ever indicated that she was interested in him.

Well... except she had kissed him first, but he had egged her on to do it, and it had been barely more than a peck. It was practically platonic.

No, it wasn't. She had been teasing, hoping that he would kiss her back properly. Which he then did... amazingly well, her toes still curled in her shoes thinking about those kisses... until Thor interrupted everything. Sydney scowled deeper and directed her ire to Jane, who was oblivious and pointing something out on the screen to Bruce who grinned back at her with enthusiasm.

_Stop_, she told herself. This was not Jane's fault. It wasn't Thor's fault. This was Loki's fault. She was glad she stole those grapes of his plate. The asshole kissed her and then acted like she was annoying ant trying to crawl up his boot. _What guy does that_?

This was not good. This was her fault. She shouldn't have kissed him. She shouldn't have kissed him back when he kissed her. _What woman goes around kissing war criminals_? Her mind swam around in circles. She rubbed her hands over her face and sighed. It had been a long night and an equally long morning. A fool could get quite the workout replaying mistakes in her mind at 3:00 AM. Nothing can bring on insomnia like a nice warm glass of regret and a heaping plate of self-loathing.

_That reminds me_. She needed food... and more caffeine.

Sydney realized that her last remaining coffee had long ago cooled. She had wasted half a day in hiding and behaving like the adolescent teenage girl... that she kinda was. _No, the difference between a child and an adult is behavior. It is time I got off my ass and got focused on something that is actually productive... Well... After more caffeine, of course. _She stared at her cold, near empty mug. _I wonder_, she thought. She concentrated, and a single bubble rose up and popped lazily. _Sweet_! Smiling, she focused harder this time. Another bubble formed, smaller and faster than the first. Then a third bubble. And a fourth. A fifth. Faster and faster the coffee simmered in her hands, and her drink would be warm again in no time whatsoever.

Then it was rapidly boiling.

The mug began to shake in her hands. Sydney put it down quickly on the table, where it rattled and jumped across the surface. She began to back away from the desk, willing it to stop. _It should have stopped by now, what's going on_?

Something was wrong; the harder she tried the worse it became. _Crap_. Sydney backed away from the desk, hands in front of her like she was trying to calm a frightened animal. It was then that she noticed a few of the liquid containers on a nearby shelf jiggled. _Shit, shit, double shit_. This was not good.

"Hey, guys," she called out. Bruce and Jane were too absorbed in their work to realize she was trying to get their attention.

"Guys! Wake up!" she yelled. The pair turned their heads, blinking as if they had stepped out into bright sunlight. Sydney waved her hands towards the mug on her desk and the chemicals on the shelves.

The mug burst with shards of porcelain shattering across the table.

The lab now smelled of burnt coffee and... and_ rust_. Magic. The magic she and Loki felt on the balcony.

_I'm not the one doing this..._

Her eyes began to water and she started coughing, "Out! Out now! Get out!" screamed Sydney. The beakers and bottles on the nearby shelf began to rattle more ominously and the overhead pipes began vibrating. Across the room, Bruce realized the danger first; he grabbed Jane and hurried her across the lab towards the exit. Sydney watched in horror as a pipe burst and a geyser of steam jetted out in their path. Jane screamed.

Bruce bent down and grabbed Jane, scooping her up as if she weighed nothing. "No! Don't put your arms around me," he yelled as she tried to steady herself. "Try to cover your face!" Then he bent over and ran through the steam, howling in pain as he did so.

They escaped into the hallway, gasping, the sound of glass shattering and more pipes bursting following them. Bruce dropped Jane, and Sydney scrambled over to her. Bruce staggered forward a few steps and then collapsed down on his knees.

J.A.R.V.I.S.'s articulated words came out from the ceiling above them, "Initializing lab shutdown protocol. Fire suppression systems have been enabled." The two women watched as metal reinforced doors slide down with a loud bang. "Dr. Foster and Dr. Bergström, I'm reading an increase in the mass of Dr. Banner. He also appears to be in some form of respiratory distress. Do you require medical assistance?"

Moments earlier, Sydney had crawled to Jane to check on her. The astrophysicist was shaking, but uninjured. It didn't appear that any of the steam had burned her, so that just left Bruce...

A few meters away, Bruce was breathing heavily, his face contorting into agonized expressions. He gripped the corner of a nearby wall, struggling to maintain control.

Jane shook her head, "I'm okay." She looked at Sydney, "We're okay, right?"

Falling forward on his elbows, Bruce moaned and looked over at the other two scientists.

His eyes had turned green.

* * *

§

* * *

Agent Barton got out of his Land Rover, parking in the garage right as Director Fury was leaving. "Sir, we have a situation," Barton said before the S.H.I.E.L.D. director climbed into his heavily armored black SUV.

Fury stopped, resting a hand on the open door. "The Lewis girl?" he asked.

"Yes. She and Romanoff were in the training room when I went to join them. The girl was hysterical and Romanoff had her weapon drawn," Clint hesitated.

"Walk with me back to my office." Together, they entered the secure elevator. "At the girl?" Fury asked incredulously.

"No," Clint closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "The... presence we discussed earlier today was there."

Fury leaned back against the side of the lift. "The one Loki had claimed to have seen."

"Felt," clarified Barton, "Yes, sir. I believe it was the same."

"You saw it?"

"No, the girl did. Neither Romanoff nor I saw a thing," he held up a hand when Fury narrowed his eye. "But we _heard_ it. I know something was there, messing with us. Messing with the kid. Her especially."

"Agent, this is not what I wanted to hear. Starting today, I'm supposed to have a week off from Loki and magic. Seven days that don't smell like crazy and therefore piss me off. It was going to be practically a damn vacation." Together, they exited the elevator and walked down the hallway.

"Well, it looks like all you are going to get is a week off of Loki," Barton said. They stepped into Fury's office, and the archer wondered what he had deserved to be back in this underground for the second time in one day.

"Don't get smart with me, Barton. Ask Bergström to look into it for the time being. After you left earlier, I gave Hill the go ahead to resurrect Project S.I.R.E.N. We are not going to rely solely on a psychotic demi-god war criminal and a teenage girl in these situations.

"She's 36," said Barton with a smirk. Fury was not amused. "Yeah, anyway... We're on it. Romanoff went to go collect her already." Barton's cell phone rang. He smiled, "Speak of the devil." He tapped on his earpiece to answer the call.

"Clint, you there?" Agent Romanoff asked before he could say hello. Her voice was frantic, but what struck Barton the most was that she sounded scared.

He tried to throw together a list in his mind, but nothing scared the Black Widow. Not Loki. Not when the Lewis girl kept screaming about an invisible shadow monster with shark teeth. Not even him when he forced her to fight him while he was under Loki's mind control. Nothing and no one scared her.

_Well_, he thought of one thing he could add to the list, _there was that one time_...

Oh god.

Romanoff was breathing heavy, "We need you back at the tower, _now_! We have a situation. Get Fury, tell him. It's Banner." Barton could hear the sound of her running in the background.

Hawkeye didn't skip a beat. He gave Fury a knowing look, "Banner." Fury's eye widened and he brought up his screens to make a call, dismissing the agent. Barton sprinted back down the hallway in the direction he had come. "I'm on my way," he told Romanoff, but she had already hung up on him.

* * *

§

* * *

Twinges of green passed over Bruce's face as he struggled to control the rage. He curled up in a fetal position, shaking.

Sydney helped Jane to her feet. The women looked over in fear, realizing a transformation was eminent.

"Oh god, Dr. Banner," whispered Jane, reaching for him.

Sydney tried to pull Jane back from walking over to him. "Bruce, you gotta fight it. We're gonna be okay. Listen to me," she said, but Bruce didn't seem to hear either of them.

The shape of his forehead was contorting, his face was growing. He pounded on the ground with a fist, desperate to stop the transformation. He was changing shape, muscles were bulging, and the transition was tearing apart the fabric of his shirt and pants.

His skin became green and his hair was now jet black.

Two of the tower's security guards came running down from the other end of the hallway. Sydney waved her arms emphatically to send them away. They took one look at Bruce and bolted.

Jane decided to try and help Bruce calm down, "Bruce, we're gonna be okay. Right? I'm fine, you saved me, you can walk away, and we won't..."

"You're fine?!" he growled with a bellow. Jane jumped back. Sydney began tugging frantically on the sleeve of her lab coat, trying to get her to leave.

"Bruce," Jane pleaded.

It was too late. Bruce was almost finished transforming; he gave the women one last remorseful look, and then... he was gone. Jane finally started backing off with Sydney. The Hulk, sensing this, turned his head to the women. His snarling was that of a vicious dog, multiplied by a hundred. He had the face of a monster unhinged.

Jane and Sydney took off running down the hallway, the Hulk chasing after them. He smashed into the walls with his fists and shoulders as he ran, the sound of walls breaking preceding him, terrifying the women enough to go faster.

The voice of J.A.R.V.I.S. once again came from the ceiling above them, this time at a louder volume to compensate for the sounds of the Hulk. "Drs. Foster and Bergström, may I suggest boarding the Quinjet and retreating to safety?" Sydney would later recall how unnerving it was to hear the AI use such a reserved tone.

They reached the emergency stairwell, jerked the door open and raced inside. "Come on," shouted Sydney, "No, head up the stairs! The roof!" They began stumbling up to the next floor, the sound of the Hulk smashing behind them.

When he burst into the stairwell, the Hulk pulled the metal hand railing out from next to him and hurled it up to the flight above him. Jane fell down to duck under the flying debris while Sydney jumped up to the next landing. Sydney reached down to grab Jane, and the two women ran quickly through the exit on the roof's level.

The Hulk roared and raved at them, unlike anything they had experienced from Bruce. Or anyone. The sound was primal. Animalistic. Predatory.

Not human.


	20. HOPE - hold on pain ends

**Author's Note**

**My apologies that this latest chapter took so long. T**hough in my defense, eight days only seems like a long time when lately I've been updating twice a week. I didn't have writer's block this time, because** I was engrossed with completing a new needlepoint design when I wasn't at my boring muggle job. I just really had this itch to stitch the Bloody Mary prayer from the show _Archer_**[32]**... because I'm insane and those are the kind of things I give to my friends (or I put on etsy if later decide I want to keep those friends).**

**In other news, I had a response from a potential beta this past weekend. She already even caught two errors in the prologue. I take this as a very good sign.****  
**

**Now that I'm done rambling about things you're not interesting in reading, let's get back to our semi-regularly scheduled story... get ready my beloved tens of readers, we're going _to Asgard_ this time!**

****Sections entirely in _italics_ denote flashbacks.****** Numbers in [brackets] denote footnotes, which you can find at the bottom of the chapter. Nothing from the Marvel universe is mine.**

**~ Refictionista, November 6, 2014  
**

* * *

§ **Chapter IX **§  
H.O.P.E. - hold on. pain ends.

* * *

"You _must_ allow me to marry the Midgardian. Jane Foster is the answer to my heart's desire," Thor said in a respectful tone while at the same time practically shouting.

Odin scowled and then stood warily. "One son who found their race unworthy, another who values them too much and wishes to marry an earthbound female. Is this to be my legacy?!" he stepped down from the throne with heavy steps and left the Great Hall of Valhöll, "I wish to hear no more of this."

Not actually having been dismissed, Thor followed him out to the parapet where the All-father had stopped. The balcony overlooked a training yard where the Asgardian royal guard was practicing with various weapons, the most interesting of which were high tech swords blazing with blades of pure energy. They stood silently for a few moments, watching the maneuvers of their soldiers below.

The All-father finally spoke, "Is Vanaheimr secure?"

Thor nodded, then spoke much softer than before, "Yes, the Warriors Three and the Lady Sif gave me a full report when they returned. They go next to Nornheim to deal with Karnilla, though without Loki at their side... I fear their task there will prove more difficult.[33] Perhaps then, their journey will pass more quickly with you at the fore."

A small hint of a smile crept up on one side of Odin's face. "You must think I'm a piece of bread, that needs to be buttered so heavily."

"That was not my intent."

"My son, you know well why Loki will not join the quest to subdue Karnilla and I why I cannot leave the Valhöll. Perhaps it would do good to remind the Nine Realms of your strength once more and join your friends yourself. You would earn the respect of our people and my gratitude, and then nothing would be out of order except your confused and distracted heart."

Thor was glad that his father brought the subject of their conversation back to that of his intended, "I am not confused about Jane Foster, father."

"Humans lives are fleeting. They're nothing. You'll be better served by what lies in front of you." Odin nodded in the direction of the Lady Sif, whose warrior instincts felt their eyes upon her and looked up to meet their gaze. Realizing the two royals had no need of her, she nodded in respect and returned her full focus to practicing combat.

Thor grimaced; he wished Loki was here. His brother's silver tongue was much better suited to swaying the All-father than... _Loki..._

"While we were on Midgard, Loki said something about the humans," said Thor. Odin looked over to him with veiled attention, as the All-father paid little heed to Loki's life in the other realm. Thor furrowed his brow as if trying to remember, and then continued, "He said that humans are pathetic, a shocking statement to be made in front of a human verily, but he also said that does not make us any superior. As Jötunn, he had to come to terms that we of Asgard believe that Frost Giants are monsters, worthy of extermination." Thor gave his father a pointed look, "He was raised as I was that Asgardians are superior to the Jötunn. It was this madness of prejudice for which he sought to exterminate their... nay... his own, race. He made the Midgardians kneel before him because we also thought they were nothing. As I once did. As you just said you do."

"You make light of the damage he has done."

"No, he realized that he was behaving like an Asgardian, and the hypocrisy now sickens him." Thor looked away. "If anything, his heart has changed to a wiser one than mine. I claimed to love Jane Foster in the same breath that I said her race was beneath me, yet I did not recognize the significance of my thinking. It was nothing more than ignorance, and the cost of my learning of that lesson was luckily far less than Loki's." Thor then also remembered the words of Dr. Banner, "No one race, under any circumstances, should be seen or thought of as being superior to another." Thor gripped the stone railing before him forcefully, "She _is_ worthy, father. Verily."

Odin looked down again from the parapet, glancing only for a fleeting moment at the Lady Sif. The All-father sighed as he realized Thor would not give up easily, _at least not without proof_. He turned back to his son and heir, "Is she?"

* * *

Frigga was waiting for Odin in their chambers when he returned. "How much longer will this continue?" she asked without preamble as he sat in his chair by the hearth.

Odin sighed and removed his crown to rub his temples; he knew to what she was referring. "You prevented Loki's execution. Is that not for what you fought so hard against me?"

"He is _our _son," she insisted.

"Nay, not mine. Not any longer," he replied. Frigga looked as if she had been slapped, but Odin didn't stop there. "Your misplaced devotion is the only reason he's still alive, and you're still not satisfied. He should be spending the rest of his days in the dungeon."

Frigga clasped her hands sedately in front of her gown. She looked serene as always, but her eyes were on fire with a coldness that would make lesser Æsir quake with fear.

Odin knew his words spoken in haste were poorly chosen, but nevertheless he refused to retract them. He said instead, "I see I have angered you, my queen."

"There is always a purpose to everything you say and do, my love." She stood straighter and bowed her head in respect, "Unless there is anything else, I will leave you in peace to rest."

"There is." Odin stroked his beard, "We must now speak of Thor."

"And what has our _other_ son done?"

"Our _son_ wishes to marry a mere mortal," Odin spat.

Frigga tilted her head in contemplation. She smiled warmly, "Does he love her?"

"That matters not! I have told him as much. The heir to the throne of Asgard shouldn't attach himself to humans. Their mortality makes them unworthy. They are nothing."

"I see," she replied. Frigga narrowed her eyes. She asked, "Do you honestly wish me to council him against the love he has for this lady?"

"No," he said, "I have already given our son my consent." Odin leaned back to gauge his wife's response. When she said nothing and revealed less through her expression, he continued, "I pledged that he may wed his beloved." When Frigga still remained silent, Odin became perturbed. "Did you not hear me, my lady?"

"I heard the first half. I now await the second."

"There is nothing left to tell you. If she be worthy as Thor proclaims, then he will marry her."

"Ah. Who then decides the lady's worth?"

"She does, of course."

* * *

§

* * *

_"What's up, doc?" Darcy Lewis said once she got to Thor's room. Big, blonde and beautiful was leaning up against the wall with a knowing smile on his face. Darcy had once walked in Jane's room to see the glorious sight of him without his shirt on and all muscly... unfortunately, there was no repeat performance in his own_ _room. _How incredibly disappointing.

_Jane Foster, working on her laptop, sat crossed legged on a chair at the table near the center of his large room. His incredibly large room... that wasn't a bedroom... this was just the common area.  
_

_"Wow, I really got gypped when it came to room assignments," said Darcy comparing the space to her own. "Oh wow, you have your own kitchen? Jane, did you stash that tequila you swiped in there?"_

_"Nope, it's in with some shopping bags I dropped off in his closet." Jane looked up, "If you think this is nice, then you should _see_ his closet."_

_Darcy looked over at Thor, "Why do you need a closet? You wear like the same friggin' clothes all the time."_

_"I said the same thing. You would think a prince of Asgard would have some sense of the proper manner of dress befitting the _heir to a realm_ after all."_

_The taunting voice came from behind her. Darcy turned to see tall, dark and brooding sitting on a sofa near the entryway. Loki looked like he had just taken a big bite out of a particularly nasty lemon. He was looking at Thor with either contempt or annoyance, thought it was hard to tell with that one. Heck, they might even be the same with him. Loki didn't seem to do things half-assed._

_Darcy decided to ignore him. Unless you were the Hulk, it was really the best course of action. That... and to stay out of his way._

_"Whatever. Anyway, remember? You asked me to stop by, El Jefe. Whatcha need? I swear that I entered in all the data points from yesterday and what you gave me from today. I'm all caught up, 100%, scout's honor." She held up two fingers, then frowned and made it a three finger salute. _There, that's right. _Darcy gave Jane an award winning smile, "Promise."_

_"No. No. No. That's not why I asked you here," Jane said with a huge grin. The same expression as the big guy... something was up. She watched her boss bounce up from her seat and skip, yes skip, over to Thor._

_"We're getting married!" she squealed and then bounced again._

_"Whoa! Seriously? Awesome." Darcy smiled only for a second before asking, "Does that mean you're moving to Asgard?"_

_"Perhaps, if the All-father allows it," said the snarly man behind her. "Which as the only rational being currently in this room, I doubt."_

_"Brother, could you not be happy for us?" said Thor._

_"I am not your brother."_

_"You know, you're getting predictable using that petty little mantra," said Darcy, forgetting her previous decision to ignore Loki and turning around to face him. "And as an evil super villain, I have to say I'm disappointed_ I _can notice and anticipate what you're going to say."_

_Loki gave Darcy a look of pure contempt, one that made his previous expression pale in comparison. Darcy crossed her eyes and stuck her tongue out at him. Seriously, what else could she do? She turned back around to face Jane. Darcy realized that egging on Mr. Grumpypants was probably not the wisest thing she had done today. She only hoped that Thor would keep Loki from killing her or turning her into a newt._

Please don't turn me into a newt. Please don't turn me into a newt. _Darcy repeated over an over in her head._

_"Anyways," said Jane a little bit too loudly, "Will you be my maid of honor?"_

_Darcy squealed. It might have sounded like a yes in some language or another. She ran over to give Jane a hug._

_"You can't tell anyone yet, though," Jane continued. "Thor said it was okay to tell you, since it would be already be okay for you to come with us to Asgard for the wedding."_

_Darcy stopped squealing and her mouth made a perfect O. Seconds ticked by, and then she whispered, "I'm going to Asgard?"_

_Jane nodded vigorously. Thor laughed as his beloved grabbed Darcy by the hands and the two of them began jumping up and down._

_"I'm going to Asgard!" yelled Darcy._

_"Shhh," Jane said giggling._

_"Wow," said Darcy, "just, wow." She looked over to Thor, "Hey, why is it 'already okay' for me to go to Asgard?" Darcy didn't miss the fact that Thor and Loki shared a private look that seemed to communicate... something. She turned to Loki only to notice he was avoiding her gaze._

That was odd.

_Jane seemed to pick up on the tension. She pulled Darcy towards Thor's bedroom. "Do you want to see that closet?"_

_"Okay, sure. I guess." Darcy allowed herself to be dragged away from having Thor answer that question. _Dear Lord, his bedroom was ginormous._ They headed through a set of French doors and into..._

_"What! No way! No! Way!" Darcy couldn't believe her eyes. Thor's closet was bigger than her entire suite at the tower. No one of the male persuasion, human or god, needed a wardrobe like this. For crying out loud, her 'closet' here at the tower was a sliding door and she only had a the world's tiniest dresser that doubled as a night stand and entertainment center. She was pretty sure her room at the tower had once been a storage room. It was nothing like this luxury before her. "Is this Narnia? I'm about to say something I swore I'd never say. O-M-G! Again O-M-G! It's lame, but nothing else really nails it! This is the room that O-M-G was born for."_[34]

_"I know, right?" said Jane. "I keep trying to tell myself that it's just a closet, but..."_

_"But what?"_

_Jane pulled Darcy close to whisper, "Thor just shrugged when I had the exact same reaction. Apparently this," she waved her arms indicating everything around her, "is the size of his mother's room of jewels."_

_"Holy crap!" shrieked Darcy. She could hear Thor laughing from the other room. Must be nice to be a prince. She whispered back to Jane, "O-M-G! I just realized... You are going to be a real life friggin' princess!"_

_Darcy looked around and saw the shopping bags Jane had mentioned. "Grab the tequila, girlfriend. I don't care if you can't tell anyone else, we need to go celebrate." She started to dance around the massive wardrobe, hollering and whooping with joy._

* * *

§

* * *

Loki could stand it no longer; he broke down to scream from pain and anguish louder than he ever had before by far. His dignity was a forgotten luxury that dissolved days ago. His fists clenched with blanched knuckles and his nails dug deeply into the palms of his hand. Tears fell down his cheeks as he fought the urge to call out for his mother.

Catching his breath in heaving gulps of air, he struggled to lie to himself.

_This pain is fleeting, and it will end. You can endure this._

If only the god of lies could deceive himself.

Perhaps he could no longer fool himself because he had lost hope. _Was that cowardice_? Thor, for all his mental failings, never lost hope. His bravery was a certain constant of the Nine Realms. Even when circumstances were at their darkest, his golden brother never gave up hope. Thor was able to see that there was light despite all of the darkness, unlike himself.

Loki just wanted to give up.

He had lost count of the number of times he had wished for death. That he be executed as Odin had wanted. That the wayward heroes of Midgard had vanquished him once and for all. That he had truly died as his family had once thought after he had fallen into the void. That Odin would have left him to die on the altar of that in that temple on Jötunheimr.

That he had never been born in the first place.

These weren't exactly new thoughts to Loki. Many a time he had wished for death while being tortured by the Other. He had gone mad with desire for death to come to him.

_Was that madness coming back_?

Dawn was coming from over the Sea of Space. The sky was a deep pavonine blue and cloudless; it was giving way to pink and orange tendrils that painted their way towards him. The sight reminded him of the sunrise he watched with Lady Sydney on the balcony that morning. He had told her that Migardian sunrises paled in comparison to those on Asgard. The truth was that both were breathtaking in their own right.

The most beautiful thing about this sunrise was that it marked the passage of time. This was the fourth such sunrise he had watched, which meant that there were only three more to go.

_You are over halfway there. You will be back _in Midgard soon. This pain is fleeting, and it will end. You can endure this.__

The small feeling of triumph he had struggled to grant himself was short lived. His eyes were now wide with horror, and he cried out as his vision blurred the beautiful vista of the rising dawn over the Asgardian waters. The horrific pain returned once more, and his screams began yet again... drowning out any and all further rational thought.

_Hold on. Pain ends._

_Hold on._

* * *

§

* * *

[32] **Technically, that prayer may have partially come from _Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God_, written by Jonathan Edwards (1703-1758). It's a horrific piece of dogma that I recommend NOT reading. Mr. Edwards and I clearly do not serve the same God. It's absolute poison. Homeboy was born shortly after the Salem witch trials, so I guess this was the norm for that time. _In short, watch _Archer_ instead... that show makes me laugh so hard that my cheeks hurt._  
**

[33] **In the Marvel comics, Karnilla the Norn Queen was a sorceress and the Queen of Nornheim. **Although Nornheim was on the Asgardian land mass within Asgard's own dimension, and although Karnilla was apparently of the Asgardian race, she did not consider herself to be subject to Asgardian rule. Rather, Nornheim was an independent country, of which Karnilla was absolute monarch.** She was one of the most accomplished practitioners of the arts of sorcery in the Asgardian dimension (hence Thor's comment that Loki's talents would be missed).  
**

[34] **One of my secret obsessions is that I binge watch _2 Broke Girls_ with a pint of Ben &amp; Jerry's Chocolate Fudge Brownie... Every. Chance. I. Get. Please don't judge me. Wait, judge me. I can take it. Bring it on.**


	21. Chance is the first step you take

**Author's Note**

**Yeah, I changed the summary (again). Of course this time was different, because I _tried_ to make it all rhyme thereby _turning it into an awesome poem_. Heck, yeah. I do what I want. I'm kooky like that.  
**

**Oh... I watched _Interstellar_ (great movie, by the way) this weekend with the hubby, which meant that I finally saw the trailer for _The __Avengers: Age of Ultron_... yada yada yada, I** found out that Tom Hiddleston is coming back as Loki! Maybe y'all already knew this, but I sure as heck didn't. I uncharacteristically try to stay away from spoilers regarding the Marvel Cinematic Universe, but I'm so glad that one slipped through. Golly g**ee whillikers** and **huzzah****! Our prayers have been answered my dearly beloved tens of readers! _Sniff_... I'm just so happy; we're actually going to get more Loki time... _sniff._  
**

**I'm sure that we can all agree that May 1, 2015 cannot arrive fast enough.  
**

_**Though... if they made a movie just about Loki, then I might just actually squee so frakin' loud that I spontaneously combust into a cloud of sparking glitter and rainbows.**_

**Sections entirely in ****_italics_**** denote flashbacks. Dialogue in both "****_italics and quotations_****" denote telepathic conversations. Numbers in [brackets] denote footnotes, which you can find at the bottom of the chapter. Nothing from the Marvel universe is mine.**

**~ Refictionista, November 10, 2014  
**

* * *

§ **Chapter XX **§  
chance is the first step you take

* * *

They threw open the access door and escaped onto the roof, the midday sun shining in their faces with near blinding brightness. Jane tugged on Sydney's hand. "Look!" she pointed.

Across the tower at the helicopter pad, Darcy was waving frantically from the retractable ladder on the side of a QuinJet parked there. "This way!" the intern shouted over the sound of the engines firing up. They saw behind her that Natasha was madly moving about in the cockpit and readying the aircraft for takeoff. "Get your asses in here and let's go. I'm not dying for six college credits!"

"We're coming!" Jane yelled back.

They hadn't gotten far when they heard screeching metal and breaking glass coming from behind them. Sydney whipped her head around at the sound. "Get down!" she screamed. Sydney tackled the astrophysicist to the ground as the steel door from the roof's exit flew over their heads like a tossed Frisbee.

There stood the Hulk; he had reached the roof level and was growling at them. It almost looked like he was glaring directly at Sydney. His piercing green eyes were terrifying, and they snapped something free inside of her. It happened in slow motion, at least it seemed that way to Sydney. She wasn't afraid. She held onto Jane still beneath her and said quietly, "Like Rain it sounded till it curved."

Sydney remembered her aunt's words from that day they went hiking. She heard her Blanche's voice in her head, "_You need to concentrate, Sydney. You have to say the words _and_ imagine a shield. Keep trying, but for goddess' sake, do a better job this time."_

She held her hands out above herself and Jane and whispered the words again, concentrating harder this time. The sound of the Hulk's thunderous roaring faded away and was replaced by a dull ringing. She felt her ears pop and the taste of a fruity sweetness in her mouth. She closed her eyes, and it almost felt like she had been here before. For a brief second, Sydney imagined that she was back at Horsethief Falls in Colorado's Pike National Forest.

The Hulk was now standing over them. Jane screamed as he beat a heavy fist down towards them.

Nothing happened.

They were surrounded by a soapy-like bubble, but it appeared to be thicker and more impervious at this size. A rainbow of colors shimmered and whirled across the solid surface where it caught the bright sun's rays. Each time the Hulk tried to hit them, the bubble shield bounced inward slightly, then popped slowly back out again. Obviously the shield wasn't completely impenetrable, but it was slowing the beast down quite considerably. They could see him bellowing at them but couldn't hear any noise from outside the shield.

"How are you doing this?" asked Jane.

She replied with her eyes still closed, "With a great deal of concentration."

"Will you be able to keep him out until Bruce comes back?"

Sydney considered lying, but didn't give in to the temptation. "No," she said through gritted teeth. "All magic comes with a price."

Jane noticed that Sydney didn't look too good... more exhausted than she should be after running up four flights of stairs from the research level. The Hulk began pounding on the shield with both fists at the same time. Sydney started gasping at each impact, and tears ran down her cheeks.

"Ow... Ow... Ow," Sydney cried out after every pounding. "He's so strong. Ow... I'm sorry... I can't keep this going for much longer," she whimpered.

The Hulk's fists were beating down further and further into the bubble. Their previously shimmering shield looked much less radiant; it was getting thinner and the tenuously swirling colors were shaking as if with static.

The angry giant stopped hitting the barrier.

Sydney took a deep gasping breath. She opened her eyes after heaving huge amounts of air into her lungs a couple of times. Sydney's arms fell to her sides after she saw that the shield was gone. Then she heard the gunshots; she had grown up in Texas and knew a gunshot when she heard one. They were coming from somewhere close by. More worryingly... the rapidity of the shots suggested something automatic and _big_. She looked up to... _Dear goddess... _were those... bullets? Ammunition rounds, absolutely huge ones, were bouncing off the Hulk's green skin. The monster that was once Bruce looked down at his chest, almost as if confused to see the strange pieces of metal impact against him harmlessly. Then, he snarled.

The QuinJet stopped firing on him. It tried to take off, but the Hulk roared and jumped across the roof. He shook the QuinJet like it was a toy.

"Darcy!" screamed Jane.

They could see Natasha, strapped in her seat, holding on ineffectually to the yoke of the control panel. It looked like Darcy hadn't strapped herself in yet; she was being tossed around like a rag doll within the cockpit.

Jane sat there unmoving, terrified for her friend and intern. Sydney stood and grabbed Jane's arm. "Come on!" she yelled. When Jane still didn't move, Sydney slapped her across the face. It was then as if Jane had woken up, and she looked at Sydney with clear and focused eyes. The blank confusion had suddenly been washed away, and Sydney almost sighed in relief. "You alright?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Then let's go!"

Jane got up and together the two scientists ran away from the Hulk and the aircraft he was pummeling to the opposite side of the roof. "Did you really have to hit me?" asked Jane, panting.

"Well, it was the best I could come up with quickly under the circumstances," Sydney replied, equally short-winded but still running. She stopped herself from saying anything further; she wasn't going to take the time or effort to apologize right now.

They reached the edge of the building, the ground beneath nearly 100 floors below them at this level. Jane put her hands on her knees, breathing heavily. She stumbled and lost her balance, nearly falling off the roof. Sydney held on to Jane to keep her from falling over the edge and managed to pull her back.

"Geez! Be careful," said Sydney.

On the other side of the building the QuinJet had managed to get away from the Hulk's grasp. It hovered out of his reach, retreating into the sky away from the tower. He swatted at it like a child trying to catch a firefly.

Jane looked away from the aircraft, their previous escape plan, down at the roof's edge from which she had almost fallen. "There's nowhere to go. What do we do?" she wailed.

"What do we do?" Sydney had an idea of what to do, one she had thought of even when she had seen the QuinJet. She had been rereading her grimoire, refamiliarizing herself with the old spells. She just proved that she could cast those spells better than ever before. Sydney felt that she knew what they should do even with the overall sense of unease she still somewhat had about her abilities, but she was fairly certain that Jane wouldn't like it. "Just do what I do. Unless you've got something?"

Jane looked at her blankly, "Uh... no, you go."

Sydney nodded her head and turned around. She took off her lab coat, tightened the ponytail holding back her long black hair, and then leapt off the edge of the building with her arms spread wide.

Shocked after realizing what Sydney had done, Jane screamed, "What are you doing?! Sydney! What about me?!" She turned and saw the Hulk lose interest in the retreating QuinJet, returning his attention to Jane standing alone at the edge of the tower. He growled and started running towards her. Realizing she had nowhere left to escape, Jane closed her eyes and jumped off the roof to follow Sydney.

* * *

§

* * *

_"I'd like my book back, please."_

_Maria Hill looked up and wondered how Sydney Bergström found her office. She had been so distracted by paperwork that she hadn't noticed when the girl and her creepy white hair had slipped quietly through her door. __Hill tried to hide her surprise that someone could get in without her being aware as she indifferently asked, "What book?"_

_"The Hundred Secret Senses, by Amy Tan."_[35]_ _Bergström_ leaned over the desk, "Paperback, about yea big, first edition, blueish cover. It was in my purse when your goons 'held me' as a material witness. Right before they blew me up and stuck me in a freezer."_

_"Goons? No. No one stuck you in a freezer, you were... Stop, I don't have time for this. Just," Hill closed her eyes and shook her head, "just download the book to your tablet." The deputy director picked up her phone's receiver to call for _someone to escort _Bergström_ out of her office and off the campus grounds. "I don't know how you got here, but you're leaving."__

_"No!" _Bergström_ pounded a fist on the desk's surface. The pencil cup on Hill's desk jumped and rattled. "I want that book._ My_ book. My aunt gave it to me. Your people took it. Give. It. Back."_

_An angry voice came from the hallway beyond the open door behind her, "How did you get in here?"_

___Bergström__ turned to see an unhappy and imposing director of S.H.I.E.L.D. standing there with his arms crossed and the band of his eye patch lost in his deeply knitted brow. She didn't back down. "I came to find you actually. I want my grimoire back."  
_

_Direct Fury leaned forward, towering over the young woman. "Did I stutter? How did you get into this facility?"_

_"I borrowed one of Stark's motorcycles and drove here. Well, first I asked Pepper if I could use one of their vehicles, and she said yes and told J.A.R.V.I.S. to help me with whatever I needed." Dr. __Bergström__ began examining her fingernails, "So then I asked J.A.R.V.I.S. if he could help me get in here, and... he did." She shrugged._

_Fury's jaw hung open as he turned to his deputy director; she blinked twice and scowled. "Sir, I'll have a talk with Tony," Hill said.  
_

_He closed his eye and shook is head in weariness. "You do that as soon as possible, Commander."_

_"Director Fury, sir," said __Bergström trying to be polite__, "I've been awake for a week now. I wouldn't have come here if you had returned my things, as promised."_

_"When did I promise that?"_

_"You didn't. The other director, Dick. He did."_

_"Young lady, his name was_ not_ Dick."_

Oops. "_Sorry, that is the name that stuck in my head. Anyway... He promised that I would," she held up her hands to make quotation marks, "get my things back soon. You were there in the room, so I know that you realize it has been eighteen years. Sir, in my opinion, 'soon' has already passed."_

_"No."_

_"No? What do you mean no?!" she said, clenching her fists._

_"I will not have someone with your... abilities having access to even more power without proper oversight."_

_"You can't do that; I'm not yours to control. I can't believe you! I'll just find it on my own then."_

_Marie Hill got up and stood next to Fury. "Unlikely," she said. "Your belongings were taken to S.H.I.E.L.D. detainment and storage facility at a classified location. Not even Tony Stark could help you get to it."_

_"You mean the Fridge?"_

_The director grabbed her arm, "How do you know about the Fridge?"_

_"Take your hand. Off. Me."_

_Fury dropped her arm but didn't back away, "I have half a mind to throw you in a cell and lock away the key."_

_"I haven't_ done_ anything!"_

_"Exactly. I have no reason to trust you. My deputy here tells me that she made you an offer and you've refused." Fury gave her a smile dripping with condescension, "Tell you what, I'd like to prove that I'm a perfectly reasonable man. Reconsider your answer, and you can have your grimoire back." He looked at her pointedly, "Simple as that... And then I won't find you a bunk in a place that give you three square meals and an hour in the yard each day."_

_"This is called blackmail."_

_"No, actually it's called entrapment. Blackmail is what criminals do to each other." He held his hands open, "We're the good guys and right now, as far as I am concerned... you aren't."_

_The young white-haired woman ceased arguing with the two S.H.I.E.L.D. agents. After a few moments of controlled breathing on her part, she finally said, "If... If I agreed... Could I have my grimoire back today?" She cringed, "Please."_

_"We'll need some time to arrange to transport it here, but yes." He looked at Hill, who nodded back at him, "Later on this evening... Yeah, sure."_

_She huffed, "Fine, you win. I'll reconsider, but only until then. Keep your word and I'll keep mine." She walked across the office _towards _ the exit, "I'll find my own way back to the tower."_

_"No," said Fury. "You have already reached the limit of my goodwill." He blocked her path and she stopped. "Gentlemen," he barked. Two stern looking S.H.I.E.L.D. soldiers appeared from outside in the hallway."Please escort our... visitor back to the Avenger's Tower. I understand that she is a guest there now." He glared at her, "And I wouldn't want to keep them from your pleasant company."  
_

_Before she stepped through the doorway, Fury held up a hand. "In case it's unclear, you try to go back on your word and I will blow you up again and stick you back in a freezer. You get how this works?"_

_Dr. __Bergström__ let out a frustrated laugh, "I'm not your enemy. You just asked and I just agreed to join your team."_

_"Convince me that you _mean_ it," he said and he walked out. The deputy director returned to her desk and jerked her head at Sydney as if to say get out. Sydney rubbed her temple and followed the gua_rds.

_She wondered what exactly she had agreed to join. Even dreading it, perhaps._ Ugh, _she thought_, the Avengers Initiative. ___Bergström__ hadn't met Tony Stark yet, but his girlfriend Pepper Potts seemed nice. Apparently, the Norse god Thor was an actual person, so there was that. _Might be interesting._ Bruce Banner and Steve Rogers had expressed concern, and she was sure that they were alright and at least cared. The two former assassins... Well, she hadn't met them either, but they sounded scary. Then there was their boss, Director Fury, and he didn't seem like he was on her side at all._

Asshole_, she thought as she kicked an innocent waste bin further down the hallway._

_The noise drew the attention of several agents, who now looked at her with suspicion._ _Her escorts both frowned, but they kept moving. She hoped that Fury meant it when he said he would give her grimoire back. Science may have always interested her more than magic her whole life, but she felt the need to refamiliarize herself with the old spells her aunt had taught her._

_Some instinct told her that it might just be important._

* * *

§

* * *

Natasha Romanoff hadn't wanted to leave the two scientists behind; each of them was far too valuable and important to S.H.I.E.L.D.'s objectives to lose. Unfortunately, she didn't have much of a choice... though she had managed to take the Hulk's attention off them. It had to have given them enough time to get away. It had to. She hoped the women were alright, and then she eyed the blood dripping down the window next to her with bewilderment.

The Black Widow didn't become unraveled easily, but she had secured Darcy Lewis into her seat herself. _How was it that she got thrown around the cockpit? _The girl wouldn't have unbuckled the harness.

She turned around, "Darcy, speak to me."

The young intern didn't respond. The girl was sprawled awkwardly across the rear instrument panel. Her face, what Romanoff could see of it from under the mass of dark curls, was a bloody mess. On her leg there was the white jagged end of a broken bone cutting through the skin and blood was seeping across a thick scarlet patch on her pants.

This wasn't good.

"If you're bleeding, then you're still alive. Stay with me," she commanded.

Romanoff turned back to the forward windows to see a green blur in the glass reflection of a building in front of her. The Hulk had returned his attention to the QuinJet and was jumping from building to building chasing her.

_He must still be pissed about me shooting at him_, thought the assassin.

She saw the blur grow in size and the distortion become clearer. He was getting closer. "Shit," griped Romanoff. She banked the aircraft to the left, laterally inclining away from the buildings. They pulled away from New York City and the Hulk. The contrail gave her a feeling of unease, like somehow he could follow it to them as they made their getaway. She accelerated and then grabbed a headset. She needed to get somewhere that they could treat her passenger's injuries, and she needed to contact them so that they would be ready to do so the _moment_ she landed.

"Vot der'mo," she cursed. "Darcy, how in the hell did you get out of your seat?"

She didn't expect an answer; instead she flipped the switch to turn her headset on.

She didn't see the dark shadow near the battered young woman who barely clinging onto life... or hear its equally dark chuckle as it faded away.

* * *

§

* * *

[35] **Would it have been too much to have Sydney's grimoire be hidden in another anthology by **Emily Dickinson**? Yes? No? Anybody there? Bueller... Bueller... Bueller? For some reason I didn't want to use more poems, but I'm feeling somehow remorseful about this decision. ****I went through a major Amy Tan phase about twenty years ago, and I still remember everything she wrote fondly... so yeah, I went with that.  
**


	22. You're capable of more than you know

**Author's Note**

**To Gamer Girl: (1) If you don't log in when you post your reviews, then I can't respond directly to you... that's a major bummer, because I truly enjoy responding to each and every review I get. My only recourse is to respond to you _in_ the story. (2) To answer your question... No, this isn't an _Assassin's Creed_ crossover, but the idea to call the 0-8-4 the 'Apple of Eden' and its description did come from that game... so yeah, wow... good catch.  
**

**If anything, this story is an _Avengers_/_Thor_/_Iron Man_/_Captain America_/_Marvel_ _comics_/_mythology_ crossover. If anyone hasn't already noticed, I've also been trying to cram in as many various pop culture references that I can. Seriously, I threw a _Seinfeld_ into the mix a couple of chapters back. Some of these Easter Eggs are subtle (like the Apple), and others (like the _Fifth Element_ reference) I specifically mention because **something** deep inside of in me will wither and die if no one notices it.**

**Sections entirely in ****_italics_**** denote flashbacks. Dialogue in both "****_italics and quotations_****" denote telepathic conversations. Numbers in [brackets] denote footnotes, which you can find at the bottom of the chapter. Nothing from the Marvel universe is mine.**

**~ Refictionista, November 19, 2014  
**

* * *

§ **Chapter XXI **§  
you're capable of more than you know

* * *

Jane's scientist brain kicked into high gear. She was accelerating downward, gaining speed. Standard gravity was approximately 9.81 meters per second squared. Her body would reach terminal velocity when the acceleration would start decreasing due to drag... well, when the drag was equal to the downward force of gravity.

She had jumped from the roof level. _Avenger Tower was what? 300 meters tall?_ Plus... here in New York, she was at maybe 15 meters of elevation. Though latitude wasn't working in her favor. So obviously, gravity wouldn't decrease with the little altitude the building had given her; as a matter of fact, she was still going to hit the ground with...

Pop!

Something soft and springy caught Jane. And slippery. She slid and spun all over the slick surface, and then she also bounced up and down a couple of times... the result being her complete disorientation. When the movements stilled enough for Jane to brave opening her eyes, she did so cautiously.

"What the... Holy crap," she exclaimed, "how did I get in this bubble?" Jane stroked the convex surface, which was surprisingly dry despite the saponaceous appearance.[36] The petite brunette tried unsuccessfully to steady herself as she attempted to stand up while looking down. Jane was bewildered to see how she was floating past the buildings in Manhattan and at least a couple dozen stories above the street below. "Whoa!"

Sydney was standing quite still, hands clasped in front of her, as she floated alongside Jane in her own bubble. "If you stop flaying about, then your balance will return and the ride should be much gentler."

Disregarding Sydney, Jane kept trying to move about, slipping and sliding within her bubble.

"Seriously!" snapped Sydney, "You're making this harder on me." She cringed, instantly regretting her tone. She looked behind Jane, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. It's just I can't keep us up much longer. I'm completely worn out... the shield I made for us on the roof, and now these..." She pointed up ahead, "I know I can get us to Central Park; I think that's far enough for... we'll be safe there, I think. Bruce... the Hulk... He went in the opposite direction after the QuinJet, after Natasha and... Darcy."

"Oh, God," interrupted Jane. "Darcy!" she cried, covering her mouth with the back of her hand. Her eyes inflated and began brimming with tears.

Sydney didn't say anything, but her face fell. They both remembered how Darcy had been savagely thrown around inside the cockpit of the QuinJet. The poor girl would not have survived without serious injury. They could only hope that Natasha had been able to escape and get her medical attention quickly.

Very, very quickly.

Jane fell to her knees and cupped her face in both her hands. She began crying, but Sydney was pleased that Jane was staying still at least.

The two women floated along side by side silently, slowly losing altitude. Bright streams of sunlight fell through the buildings at the intersections, reflecting against the glass windows around them with warm, sugary light. The pale blue sky overhead was punctuated with unmoving wisps of white clouds. It was a beautiful afternoon that neither could enjoy.

Sydney could only see the green blur of the park ahead through her painfully focused tunnel vision. She was pale and sweat dripped from her forehead as she pushed herself mentally and physically to get the two of them to safety. Her vision began to dim, but she knew she could make it.

She _had_ to make it.

The closer they got to Central Park, the more people stopped and stared, many of whom took pictures. Eventually, they landed gently underneath an elm tree on the lower end of the mall just before Sydney took a staggering step forward and collapsed. Their bubbles popped the second she blacked out.

* * *

§

* * *

"Natasha, where are you? This place is a wreck and the QuinJet is missing, so everyone better have gotten away with you. Damn it. I've been trying to reestablish contact with you ever since you dropped the call." Though hidden behind his angry tone, the concern in Clint's voice was hard to miss.

"I had to talk to the staff at the Cabana.[37] I didn't have much time, still don't. I'm already in Bethesda's airspace.[38] I have Darcy Lewis with me. Clint," Natasha paused, "she... our asset is injured. It's bad. I had her awake and responsive for a while, but then she lost consciousness about 10 minutes ago. She's still breathing, but barely."

Natasha looked behind her at Darcy. She had put the aircraft on autopilot after talking with the medical personnel, but per their request hadn't moved her. The girl was still in the same position that Natasha found her_, _though the makeshift tourniquet around her thigh seemed to have stopped or significantly slowed down some of the bleeding... for now. She was breathing, horribly near silent gasping breaths, but she _was breathing_.

Natasha checked her instruments once again. _Almost there, hold on kid... just another minute and we're there._ She switched control of the aircraft over to the computers at the S.H.I.E.L.D. Medical station. The QuinJet began following the command instructions from down below for the rest of the descent.

"Why didn't you take her to the New York campus? They have medics there, just as good as the ones at the Cabana."

"Because Bruce's other half was chasing us. I needed to get away from New York... and fast."

He hesitated, but then didn't say whatever it was he originally had on his mind. "Understood. What do you need me to do?"

"Find Bruce. I lost him, so he might start going after Jane and Sydney again. He seemed pretty pissed at those two to begin with, which is why I emptied my magazine on his raging green ass so they could get away."

"You shot at the Hulk? That's not generally a good idea."

"No kidding, but I had to get his attention off them. It was just like Budapest all over again."

Clint wasn't satisfied, "You and I remember Budapest very differently. He could have ripped off one the jet's wings."

"He tried. In the end he just shook us really, _really_ hard." Natasha shook her head and whispered, "That's how she got thrown around the cockpit and ended up a bloody mess. Clint, I swear I strapped her into her seat. I..."

"Don't. Don't do that to yourself, Tasha. This is monsters and superpowers and nothing we were ever trained for."

Natasha knew that, but she still felt like she had failed her assignment. The dying girl behind her was an incredibly valuable asset to S.H.I.E.L.D... not to mention just a kid. "I've got to go. I'm landing now."

"Stark is still in California, but I'll get with Rogers. We'll find Banner."

"Hurry," Natasha terminated the connection just as her landing gear came out.

* * *

Director Fury had already made contact with Steve Rogers by the time Hawkeye called him. S.H.I.E.L.D. had received reports of two women flying in giant bubbles towards Central Park, and Captain Rogers had already been given orders to intercept. Fury had told him that the initial photos posted on social media sites were fuzzy, but it was clear that one was a brunette in a white lab coat and the other had incredibly long black hair.

Dr. Jane Foster and Dr. Sydney Bergström... _what were those two doing?_ Rogers also made a mental note to put social media on his list; he hated not understanding the lingo. _Were the bubbles some form of internet photo? _Surely, Fury hadn't meant actual bubbles... though it sure sounded like he had meant real bubbles.

As to the whereabouts of the Hulk... Rogers didn't know where Bruce Banner's alter ego was either, but he had heard a savage roar from several blocks away. It sounded like _the other guy _ was somewhere in the vicinity of Times Square. Rogers kept running down 7th Avenue after answering Barton's call. "Hawkeye, I heard him. Head towards... Wait..."

Rogers stopped short as he watched the Hulk jump over the intersections, high in the sky. It was Dr. Banner, sans clothing, giant and green. He watched the beast bound through the air, impacting the concrete with his massive feet, creating a crater each time he landed. Cars swerved to miss the newly created potholes. "I'm turning around and heading back to the park," Rogers said.

"Weren't you just there?"

"Tell me about it."

"Cap, I see him. Geez, he just jumped over my... wow... yeah, it looks like he's heading to the park."

Hawkeye turned and drove his Land Rover down 7th Avenue, picking up Captain America near 56th Street outside of Carnegie Hall. The grey four-wheel-drive vehicle barely slowed down enough for Rogers to jump in the passenger seat. They maneuvered back towards the park, passing a trail of bystanders foolishly standing around and pointing.

They saw the Hulk up ahead. He had slowed down, but this only made him more terrifying. The pedestrians began running as the Hulk roared at them. He walked along, his bulky figure pushing garbage bins and other obstacles out of his way.

Hawkeye stopped the Land Rover near the skating rink. Captain America saw two nearby police sergeants and called them over to him, "You need men at the park exits." In a single movement, he jumped out of the vehicle and landed on the hood, pointing in the directions of the nearest exits. "There are people in the park and they're going to be in an area of danger. You secure them indoors and out of sight, or take them down to the subway station. You keep them off the streets. I need a perimeter as far back as 51st."

The older of the two sergeants was a middle aged man who had seen more things the past year than he had ever thought possible. He looked at Rogers incredulously and held a hand out with fingers splayed in a questioning gesture, "Why the hell should I take orders from you?"

Some pedestrians, young twenty-somethings not running like nearly all the others, had stopped to take photos of the Hulk with their camera phones. Banner's other half threw a large boulder the size of a Volkswagen towards them in response. Rogers jumped and blocked the giant rock with his Vibranium shield. The innocuous painted piece of armor was stronger than steel and a third of the weight... and completely vibration absorbent. The boulder the shield intercepted instantly disintegrated, but a large unbroken portion flew into the air. The trajectory of the debris reached its vertex, and that still potentially deadly chunk of rock began descending back down towards the frightened civilians. Rogers tossed his shield like a discus over the policeman, while Hawkeye notched and released an explosive arrow. The remaining rubble further crumbled into powder and smaller pebbles, the majority of which was deflected from the innocent bystanders.

The elder policeman jerked his thumb over his shoulder, "I need men at those exits."

The younger cop nodded enthusiastically, "You got it." He immediately headed back in that direction.

"Lead the people out of the park and away from the streets," the older cop called after him. He turned around and grabbed the radio attached to his shoulder, "We're going to set up a perimeter all the way down 51st Street."

Rogers saluted the cops as they began controlling the situation on their end. That just left taking care of the Hulk to the two of them. Rogers and Hawkeye began running after Dr. Banner, who appeared to be moving slower with each step. When they reached him, he had stopped completely.

Before them was Jane Foster with her hands raised up, and it looked like she was trying to talk to the Hulk. When they got close enough, they could finally hear her. "Bruce," they overheard her saying, "we're fine. I'm fine. Sydney's fine; she's just sleeping." Dr. Foster bit her lip, "Please calm down, Bruce." Sydney Bergström was lying still and unmoving on the grass in a heap behind Foster, but she appeared to be breathing.

_Thank God_, thought Rogers.

The Hulk huffed, he craned his neck around. His massive head turned, and the green giant stared and blinked at Rogers and Hawkeye. Rogers had a fleeting moment of discomfort when he realized that the big green version of his friend was completely naked. The expression must have registered, since the Hulk's eyes seemed to narrow into angry slits in response.

Dr. Foster kept making reassuring noises. The Hulk dropped to his knees, breathing heavily like an old man who had ditched his walker to run. Twinges of flesh colored skin rippled underneath his massive muscles. The Hulk leaned forward to rest some of his weight on a gigantic fist. Dr. Foster slowly inched her way towards him and tentatively gave him a reassuring pat on his shoulder. His green skin felt stiff and rough, like sandpaper. The Hulk cringed when she touched him, but then he sighed and relaxed further. He titled his head again at the two Avengers who had run up to their clearing in the trees a moment before.

"Cap," said Barton gesturing with his head, "look."

Banner's electric green eyes had turned brown.

* * *

§

* * *

[36] **My husband makes artisan soaps for a living. We call his workshop the 'saponatorium' instead of referring to it as the soap room... just a fun little fact about my life in the real world.**

[37] **There are _many_ hospitals in the Marvel comics universes****, and I wanted to find one to use that was outside of New York City (yet nearby~ish, like maybe something close to say Washington, D.C. and adjoining the _cinematic universe _Triskelion). Unfortunately, I couldn't find a single existing hospital that fit my criteria, yet Natasha and Darcy _needed_ to put at least some distance between themselves and the Hulk to escape. The S.H.I.E.L.D. Medical that I created is part of the Walter Reed National Military Medical Center (i.e. Bethesda), and I gave it the codename Cabana****. I realize the S.H.I.E.L.D. is part of the UN as an espionage/law-enforcement agency and not part of the American military, but just go with it.  
**

[38] **Okay, get prepared for some math. Let's figure five minutes for Natasha to get away from the Hulk (three minutes spent getting out of his reach and two flying through and around Manhattan trying to lose him). She's flying a QuinJet, which can reach Mach 2.1 according to the Marvel Comics Wikia. Mach 1, the speed of sound, is about 767 mph at sea level. So Natasha is flying at roughly 1600 mph (FYI, **commercial airliners usually cruise between 500 and 600 mph). **According to distancefromto DOT net, it is 205.46 miles from the MetLife Building (which was deconstructed to accommodate Stark Tower) to Bethesda. Which means it took Natasha about eight minutes to fly there, and she got Darcy to the ER in less than fifteen minutes. _Why I find this so interesting that I have to share it with you... the world will never know__. Have a Tootsie Pop._  
**


	23. When in destruction, create something

**Author's Note**

**I hope everyone here in the land of Uncle Sam enjoyed their Thanksgiving holiday. My jeans don't seem to fit this week, so yeah... mine was that good. According to the traffic stats for this story, the second most popular country reading this is (drum roll, please) Canada... where Thanksgiving is celebrated in October. I'll admit that this date makes more sense in terms of being a harvest festival, but I don't envy you. I dressed up as Gamora from _Guardians of the Galaxy_ for Halloween, and I'm glad that I didn't pig out on mashed potatoes two weeks before wearing spandex pants. **

**Just saying.**

**Sections entirely in _italics_ denote flashbacks. Numbers in [brackets] denote footnotes, which you can find at the bottom of the chapter. Nothing from the Marvel universe is mine.**

**~ Refictionista, December 3, 2014** [UPDATED: January 15, 2014]

* * *

§ **Chapter XXII **§  
when in destruction, create something

* * *

Sydney woke up to the smell of a hospital room. Yet again? she thought. Well, at least there isn't a beeping noise. Slowly, she opened her eyes; there were no machines attached to her this time. She stretched her arms and looked around. Jane Foster stood over at the window, arms crossed over her chest. The astrophysicist was staring blankly at the view of the night sky, obviously deep in thought.

"Hey," said Sydney.

Jane turned and gave Sydney a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Hey, yourself. You're awake," she said. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I slept for ages, yet I'm worn out. How long have I been out?"

Jane broke eye contact, rubbing one forearm as if suddenly cold. "Two days," she said after a moment's hesitation.

"Wow." Sydney blinked. "I don't feel injured..."

"No, the doctor's said you weren't hurt... just sleeping."

"Wow," repeated Sydney. She stretched again. "Though... to be honest, it shouldn't be that surprising. I haven't had a decent night's sleep since I woke up, so maybe I was just due for a good nap."

"Yeah. I guess." Jane turned back to Sydney and asked, "Wait... Having trouble sleeping?"

Sydney shook her head. She sat up, throwing the blanket side and then swung her legs over the edge of the bed. "I was asleep for almost 20 years. I think I've had enough rest." Sydney watched warily as Jane walked over and absently sat on the foot of Sydney's bed, close but far away. The petite astrophysicist seemed distracted. "Is everything okay?" Sydney inquired gently.

"Darcy was hurt." Jane clasped her hands in her lap. "It's bad."

Sydney didn't know how to respond to that. "Define bad."

"Broken bones. Massive internal injuries. Surgeries. Coma. ICU. Life support. It really can't get much worse."

"Oh my..." Sydney murmured. The memories were fuzzy, but they were there. She remembered Jane screaming Darcy's name, Bruce's... other half... shaking the QuinJet like it was a toy, and then Darcy being tossed around like a rag doll. She reached over and grabbed Jane's hand. "I'm so sorry, Jane."

"Thanks," whispered Jane. Her eyes filled with tears and her lower lip trembled a bit. "She has to be all right. She is going to be alright. Darcy has to... She was so excited about going to Asgard." Jane hugged herself, crying softly. She looked over at Sydney. "Thor sent word through Heimdall yesterday. He got his father's blessing." Jane looked up at the ceiling and tried to blink back her tears. "I wish I had a way of contacting him back."

"But still... That's wonderful news for you and Thor," said Sydney. She noticed Jane's white knuckles gripping the blanket on the bed. "Isn't it?"

Jane either gasped out a bitter laugh or a strangled cry of pain. It was hard to tell. "We can't postpone the wedding. We'll still have to leave in about two weeks, and I don't see how Darcy could possibly be well enough to travel through an inter-dimensional portal. They don't even know if she'll ever wake up. She... she isn't going to Asgard... and I wanted her to come with me."

"I know." Sydney didn't really know, but she couldn't think of anything else to say.

* * *

§

* * *

_Sharon Carter purchased a water bottle from a street vendor on her way to the park for lunch. On beautiful afternoons on a day off like this one, she liked to sit and eat on a bench in the Shakespeare Garden. It was one of the quieter areas in Central Park, and being amongst some of the flowers and plants mentioned in the famous English bard's poems and plays reminded her of her father. He had loved reading _The Complete Works of Shakespeare_, and even read from it to her as bedtime stories._

_She walked along the rustic pathways, trying to find a bench away from the crowds and the two weddings she had seen so far. The normally peaceful area of the park seemed busier than usual today, and Sharon hoped that she would find a bench. She had spotted an empty seat and had pulled her sack lunch out from her large handbag when she stopped._

_Captain Rogers was there, here, in the park, at one of _her_ spots... sketching._

_Silently cursing, Sharon was wondering if she should back away slowly when he looked up. His tranquil features dissolved when he realized who she was. Sharon narrowed her eyes in return... this was _her_ spot, but he wouldn't likely believe that._

_"Steve," she said in greeting, but he said nothing in return. "I'm not following you, I swear," she promised, holding up her brown bag. "I just came here to eat my lunch in peace and quiet." She watched as he leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest._

Fine.

_"I'm going to sit, right there," she pointed. "You can either stay and be civil or you can leave and be rude. Choice is yours."_

_She tossed her handbag on the bench next to him and sat down. She pulled out a plastic Tupperware container from the sack. Then she took out a Ziploc baggie with utensils and her napkin. Setting the water bottle down on the empty paper bag, she looked up at Steve. He still looked annoyed._

_"Stay and be rude, I guess," she muttered. This was not turning into the peaceful and relaxing lunch that she had imagined. _

_Sighing, Sharon popped open the container. She had taken leftover rotisserie chicken from the weekend, mixed it with orzo and chopped fresh vegetables, and tossed it with a tangy lemon dressing. It was the perfect dish for a summer's day; she raised a heaping forkful to her salivating mouth._[39]

_Steve was still staring at her._

_"Are you really going to watch me while I eat?" she asked._

_"Am I really to believe that you didn't come here because of me?" he returned._

_"Yes," she insisted. He raised an eyebrow at her. She sighed. "Look, I realize how this looks. I honestly only want to take a break and eat my lunch. I'll be out of your hair in five or ten minutes. Can we just please call a truce until then?"_

_His face softened. "Alright," he said quietly. He leaned forward to look down at her salad and took a whiff. "What are you having for lunch?" he asked._

_She smiled hungrily. "Chicken-orzo-veggie salad with lemon dressing."_

_He crinkled his eyebrows. "Orzo?" he asked. "Isn't that for soup?"_

_"Orzo was used in soups mainly for a long time, but people started using it in other dishes. Personally, I love making pasta salad with it." She took a bite and briefly considering offering him some before rejecting the idea. She swallowed, "I didn't think about getting used to the evolution in cooking styles. You must miss the good old days, huh?"_

_"Not all the time," he shrugged and then gestured towards her meal. "Actually, the food's a lot better. We used to boil everything."_

_"I guess that helps." She clarified, "Knowing that you like something that has changed must take some of the pain away from missing when you're from."_

_He leaned back, relaxing his shoulders. "Things aren't so bad. No polio is good. Internet, so helpful. I've been reading that a lot trying to catch up."_

_"_We Didn't Start the Fire_, by Billy Joel. Everything you've missed jammed into one song."_

_Steve set aside his sketches and pulled out a small notebook. "I'll put it on the list," he said smiling. He made a notation at the end of a list._

_Sharon craned her neck to look at the rest of what he had written._

_I Love Lucy  
Moon Landing  
Berlin Wall (Up + Down)  
Steve Jobs (Apple)  
Disco  
Thai Food  
Sᵵaᵳ-₩aᵳᵴ/Trek_[40] _  
Nirvana (Band)  
Rocky (Rocky II?)  
Didn't Start Fire (Song), Billy Joe_

_"Not to pry," she said, "but I'd add the Civil Rights Movement to that list."_

_Steve grinned wistfully. "Nope," he said. "Already taken care of... That was one of the first things I looked into."_

_"Glad to hear it. And it's Billy Joel, not Joe. J-O-E-L."_

_"Noted."_

_They sat quietly, watching people as they walked past. He didn't return to his sketching, but she busied herself with her lunch._

_"I like to come here to draw," he said finally. "It's quiet. No one talking on their phones. The flowers are nice."_

_"Same reasons I come here to eat."_

_"Really?" he asked._

_"Sure. There used to be a ton more of the flowers that were mentioned in Shakespeare's works; they replaced quite a bit of the landscaping with other plants. Some of them are still here, and I come for them."_

_"You like Shakespeare?"_

_She swallowed another bite, "Not especially, but my father did."_

_Their phones rang simultaneously, the S.H.I.E.L.D. logo flashing across the small screens. Sharon tossed the nearly empty plastic container back in the brown bag and into her handbag. She answered, "Agent 13." Steve was still neatly putting away his things. "I'm on it," she said hanging up._

_She got up, quickly removed her gun from the holster on her back, checked her ammunition and disengaged the safety. Then she turned to Steve. "Guess I'll see you later, Captain Rogers."_

_"Steve," he replied to both her and answering his phone._

* * *

_Sharon lowered her weapon; it appeared that Bruce Banner was returning to normal. Hawkeye and Captain America had arrived about the same time she did. They were standing down as well, talking with Jane Foster. The astrophysicist was stroking the Hulk's thick black hair and patting him reassuringly like one would for a child. As his skin's green hue faded, it became increasingly apparent that the now gentle scientist was completely naked. Jane took off her lab coat to cover him. Behind her was a woman with dark hair who appeared to be sleeping, curled up on the ground._

_"Dr. Foster?" Sharon pulled out her badge, "Doctor, I'm Agent 13 of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s Special Service." _

_At the sound of her voice, Steve noticed Sharon... and on the ground in between the two of them... _was her unconscious sister_. "Kate!" he stuttered. "Sorry, Sharon! I need to get you out of here,_ now_."_

_"I was ordered to contain the situation." She turned back to Jane, "How are they?" Sharon nodded to Bruce and the woman._

_"She's fine; I mean she'll _be_ fine. Exhaustion, I think. Bruce... I'm not sure," Jane bit her lip and returned to stroking his hair. He had shrunken down to a more Bruce-like size, but his skin was hanging loosely from his frame... and his bones made crackling sounds as they rearranged. "Is this normal?" Jane asked Steve and Clint._

_Clint began talking quietly with Jane, but Steve addressed his former neighbor directly. "Sharon, you can't be here. Your mission changed," he asserted._

_"On whose order?" Sharon's phone began ringing and she held it up, noticing that the caller ID showed Nick Fury's contact details._

_"His," said Steve not even looking at the phone._

_Jane and Clint had stopped talking to watch the exchange, but then Jane exclaimed, "Bruce!" Hawkeye caught Bruce as he went limp. He was out cold and surprisingly heavy for such a small man. Hawkeye and Jane helped him to lie down._

_Sharon's phone was still ringing. She took a step towards Bruce to help Clint and Jane while lifting her mobile to her ear to answer the call, but then stopped... her hand clutched the phone, still buzzing impatiently, mid-air. She dropped it and took a step in the other direction._

_The fallen woman had shifted on the ground as if to find a more comfortable position. It was the loud yawn that had caught the agent's attention. Still sleeping, Sharon noticed almost without a second glance. She was a young girl, teenage or early twenties, with long dark hair... _wait_... _that face_..._

It can't be... how the hell can it be possible that she's the same age?

_"Sydney?"_

_Steve darted forward and held out his arms to physically block her from getting closer, "You need to go, now."_

_"What? No," she tried to get around him. "Sydney?!"_

_He grabbed her by the wrist, "We're going. You_ can't_ be here. Answer your phone."_

_"Screw you, Steve. Is that my sister?!" She tried to push him off her. "Fucking get off me," she yelled._

_"Stop!" he shouted back, though it was clear he was shaken at his normally gentle neighbor's use of obscenities. Jane was looking at them both wide-eyed. Steve grabbed Sharon by both shoulders and looked her directly in the eyes, "I will do everything I can to help you, but you can't be here. You aren't cleared for this… _yet. _Answer your phone, now. Go!" He bent over and picked up her iPhone, swiping a finger across the screen to answer it. Steve held it up to Sharon._

_She glared at him. "This is Agent 13," she answered, yanking the phone away from him. She paused for a moment, and turned her narrowed eyes away from Steve to the prone man on the ground. She pulled a limp wrist out from under Jane's lab coat and checked for a pulse. "Yes, sir. Bravo is down, he appears not be injured but is unresponsive. There also appears to be an unconscious woman ten meters next to him." She took the girl's,_ her sister's_, pulse and looked at Steve, "Yes, I checked her vitals. From what Dr. Foster told me, she collapsed from exhaustion. I need EMTs." Steve exhaled in relief when he heard her not mentioning that she recognized the identity of the woman being discussed. Sharon had at first incredulously suspected the girl was her sister, but after Steve's reaction she knew for sure. A tear fell down her cheek, and she wiped it away and returned her attention to the phone call. "Understood. I'm on it, sir."_

_She turned to Steve. "He needs me back at the campus," she snorted._

_"That's good. I'll see you there. We'll talk."_

_"I'm holding you to that promise and the one you made me _last month_, Captain Rogers."_

_"It's Steve," he insisted yet again. He wondered why he had the worst luck trying to get this dame on a first name basis with him. He sighed, "And don't worry. I plan on keeping my word, but you have to go. She'll be fine. Go now, please."_

_Sharon dragged her eyes away from Sydney and took off... she was going to S.H.I.E.L.D. Central campus as ordered, but she was going there to find Director Fury._

* * *

§

* * *

"Yep, thought I would find you in here."

Bruce looked up to see Natasha leaning against the wall next to him examining her cuticles. She was wearing her usual skin-tight black cat suit, but he was pretty sure that she had a firearm hidden somewhere on her person. Where that could possibly be, he had no clue. "Yeah, you found me. Now what?"

"You know, for a man who's supposed to be avoiding stress, you picked a hell of a place to hide out," Natasha said looking up from her hand and around at the demolished lab.

"I'm not hiding," said Bruce. "And avoiding stress isn't the secret."

"Then what is it? Yoga?"

"Ms. Romanoff, what do you want?"

Natasha slid down the wall to sit next to him. "Nothing. I just came to see how you were and share some of my excellent company with you," she smiled and nudged him gently with her elbow.

"I kind of broke the Garment District. Jane's intern is in a coma. How do _you_ think I'm doing?"

"Shitty would be my guess, but with my line of work I always try to find the silver lining. You think I'm kidding? Midtown _always_ needs some roadwork done, and so now they're getting it a bit earlier than they would have. As for Darcy Lewis..."

Bruce glared at Natasha. "Find the silver lining there," he said. Bruce pointed a finger to her head and then practically growled, "I _dare_ you."

Giving him a sympathetic glance, Natasha gently lowered his hand. "You didn't mean to hurt her. If anything, it was me. I fired some serious artillery at you. Not saying you meant to hurt me either, but the other guy's reaction was understandable." She squeezed his hand. "I could have _sworn_ that Darcy was strapped into her seat. God, _she was_." Bruce shook his head. "You didn't mean to hurt her," Natasha insisted. "You didn't mean to hurt her or me... or Sydney or Jane..."

Bruce interrupted her, "The other guy _wouldn't_ have hurt Jane."

The assassin stopped talking and stared at him unblinking; he could feel her evaluating that statement. "Good to know," she finally said yet not commenting further. She pulled a flask from... _somewhere, where had she stashed that thing?_ Natasha took a swig. She titled her head towards him and offered to share. "Want some?" she asked as she waggled the metal canteen back and forth.

"I don't drink."

She laughed, "Why? Are you a mean drunk?"

There was a long and slightly chilly pause before Bruce spoke again. "You know," he replied eventually, "that wasn't funny."

Natasha shrugged and another swig from her flask. "I make remarks in poor taste... just one of my many redeeming qualities. Look, you made it for more than a year without an incident. I know that you didn't wanna break that streak, but it happened. Even I don't get every time what I want."

"You're forgetting when the other guy came out a couple of months ago."

"Nope. That doesn't count."

Bruce looked at her in surprise. "That didn't count?" he asked incredulously. "Explain your logic behind that."

"Loki and his Chitauri boy band were the front-runners of that particular show. _They_ were the incident, not you."

Bruce laughed and Natasha grinned back at him; she was glad that she finally got him to smile. "See," she said, "I'm excellent company." She sighed and looked at the water and fire damage around them. "Who is going to clean this up?" she asked. The once pristine lab was a wreck.

"No idea."

"Good," she smirked. "Let's leave it. Oh, I did have a reason for coming here... Fury called a meeting." Natasha stood up and held a hand out to Bruce. "Come on," she beckoned, "let's go."

Once again annoyed, Bruce counted to ten as he glared at Natasha before finally getting up on his own.

* * *

§

* * *

[39] **Check out the foodgasmic link on my tumblr page.**

[40] **In _Captain America: The Winter Soldier_, the list Steve Rogers writes on (from what we can see on screen) had Star Wars/Trek on it... with Star Wars crossed out, indicating that he had seen it. _We can only hope that he saw the original versions... Han Shot First! _Anyway, you can't use the 'strike out' font attribute on our beloved fanfiction website, underlining wasn't going to cut it for me, so therefore I once again scoured the Character Map to come up with something that resembled what I wanted... _Sᵵaᵳ-₩aᵳᵴ_ was as close as I could get.**


	24. Without family, we tremble in the cold

**Author's Note**

**My beloved tens of readers, I have a request. I have tirelessly searched the interwebs for ages looking for a decent photo of Volstagg's wife from _Thor: The Dark World_ but have come up empty handed. Remember her? The beginning of the movie when Emo-Thor is in the Asgardian tavern and Volstagg is surrounded by his children. The lovely woman/actress I choose to _believe_ is his wife was sitting across from him at the table. I want her image for that family tree I mentioned making way back when. If any of y'all could help me out, then I would _greatly_ appreciate it. Seriously, this is going to be an interactive family tree and therefore _awesome_, but the picture I currently have for her is from the comics and _bleh_. I _could_ use one of Fandral's groupies from that scene (I've already found such a photo online), but I'm really hesitant to do that.**

**Sections entirely in _italics_ denote flashbacks. Nothing from the Marvel universe is mine.**

**~ Refictionista, December 5, 2014 **[UPDATED: January 15, 2014]

* * *

§ **Chapter XXIII **§  
without family, we tremble in the cold

* * *

Eir adjusted the sleeves of her blue robes yet another time. She had centuries of experience and knew the value of her worth. Beyond the high status of her birth, she was renowned as the most gifted healer in all the realms, and on Midgard they had even once called her the _goddess_ of healing. This wasn't pride. This was a plain and simple historical fact. Therefore, it was troubling that the All-father had kept her waiting this long in the undercroft of the Asgardian palace. As it was he who had asked for her counsel, well... _yes_, she thought, _most troubling indeed_. This boded to only one topic of conversation. _Loki_. Eir pursed her lips into thin lines, for she would speak her mind. Whether the counsel she gave resulted in angering the king or naught, this was of was of no concern. She was a healer and had taken a sacred oath. Though she would always obey her king, she would still do her best to keep those vows and tend to that oath. She was counted among the very few souls who had ever stood up against the All-father... and survived.

The air was cold and humid. Eir stood straighter and suppressed the need to shiver.

Long after enough time for her eyes to adjust to the dim light, a crier emerged from a stone archway and stood under the same groined vault where she waited. The brightness of the glowing orb he carried caused Eir to blink.

The young man stood at attention and bowed his head in respect to Eir. He cleared his throat and announced, "His Majesty King Odin Borson of Asgard, Protector of the Nine Realms..."

"Leave us," snapped Odin.

Without hesitation, the crier vanished back through the shadowy archway from whence he came. The cellar chamber seemingly plunged into darkness in response to the young man's departure.

The All-father then turned to the two Einherjar standing beside him. "Give us space to converse in private," he ordered the guards.

"Yes, my king," they both said. They retreated from their liege to a distance further into the recesses of the undercroft, their gauntleted hands never leaving the hilts of their swords. Now that her pupils had once again dilated, Eir could see, even at this range, the dim light reflecting brilliantly off of their polished golden armor.

Odin turned to her, and in return Eir bowed with respect. Royal etiquette now observed, she stood and then straightened her blue physician's robes. Brushing a fallen lock of grey hair behind her ear, she made eye contact with the All-father. "You called for my counsel, my king." He nodded, saying nothing in return. She tilted her head and asked, "Am I to assume this is in regards to Prince Loki?"

"Yes." He narrowed his one eye at her. "You requested _an entire day_ before he and my son return through the Bifröst," he charged with an accusatory tone.

Eir's face betrayed no emotion. She had no illusions to the horrendous crimes Prince Loki committed, yet she was not without pity. She had seen the younger prince of Asgard ridiculed throughout the centuries for at first his mere interest and then for his eventual mastery of sorcery. The contemptuous disdain of her people towards what they called trickery had never set well with her. For thousands of years as a healer, she had relied heavily on practicing the art of healing magic. She had long respected Prince Loki's equally impressive and proficient skill in the subject. Also, unlike most of her fellow Æsir, she held no bigoted notions of Asgardian superiority. She firmly held that all life was precious, regardless even of her own mother's race. She was one of the few who knew the truth of Prince Loki's Jötunn heritage, and she wondered also at Odin's illogical hatred of Jötunheimr and how that influenced the king's feelings towards his adopted son. _Odin, as I, should know this better than all_, she thought. Thusly, her decision to advocate for Loki had come naturally... though Eir realized that any success on behalf of the young prince would be hard won.

"No. I am requesting _two_ days," Eir answered, as any duration of longer length would arouse suspicion and divulge her true feelings.

Odin's look of surprise was almost too brief for Eir to detect in the dim light, but she knew him well enough to catch the expression. He leaned forward over her in an intimidating stance. Eir, who had maintained her composure as a physician during the most horrifically dire of circumstances in the aftermath of and sometimes even during the bloodiest battles ever known, did not back down. She met the gaze of the king with strength.

He narrowed his eye further. "Never," he declared.

"Then their royal majesties, the queen and the crown prince, shall know the truth."

"You _dare_ to defy your king and reveal a secret you were ordered to keep!?" Odin struck the cobbled floor with Gungnir, the echoing blow of his spear causing the two Einherjar to partially pull their swords from their sheaths. They stood ready to defend their king, but made no move forward. "You forget your place, foolish woman. Do not think our relationship or your position would protect you from betraying a direct order from your king. Frigga and Thor are _not_ to know of this."

"No. I obey you as I always have and always shall, All-father," Eir said. "However, I believe the toll of punishment grows more difficult for his highness to bear. He is not recuperating as quickly as he once did; I suspect using magic while on Midgard is the cause." She paused, "I am also concerned that the psychological expense of enduring such pain is wearing down his mind, and therefore his physical recuperation suffers as well."

"Now you dare to question my son's mental health?"

_Now he dares to call him son?_ thought Eir.

"This is the opinion and diagnosis of your respected and most loyal healer, Odin Borson." Eir leaned forward, her stance mirroring his. "Not even once since we were both children have I given you claim to doubt your trust in me, so heed my words. He needs more time to convalesce, or those close to him will begin to ask questions."

"No."

Eir stood back straight, closed her eyes in submission, and then gave Odin a respectful curtsey. "I understand and will obey, my king. If the queen or Prince Thor should come to me, then what will you have me say?"

He spat on the ground and strode away from her, the two Einherjar snapping quickly into place next to him. "You have made your point, so it shall be. You will have _one_ day," he said, turning to give her a menacing stare.

"As you wish, my king." Eir knew better than to give in to the temptation of smiling in triumph, even long after she returned to the hall of sickness for her healer duties.

* * *

§

* * *

_"Hello, Sydney," said a beautiful blonde woman with kind eyes. "My name is Katrina. I've been looking forward to meeting you for quite some time." She crouched down to the young girl's eye level and held out a hand._

_Sydney glanced from her father to the beautiful lady in front of her uncertainly. "My hand is sticky," she said meekly, not moving. "Adult's don't like sticky hands."_

_"Yes, that's true. At least most of the time. You're a wise little one, aren't you?" Katrina winked. "Let's agree to make an exception."_

_"Exception?" Sydney repeated slowly, enunciating the word carefully._

_"It means we won't follow the rule this time."_

_"Okay," Sydney said nodding. She held out her tiny hand. "It's nice to meet you too, Miss Katlina."_

_"Rhotacism," said her father. "She has difficulties pronouncing her R's." _

_Sydney looked down in shame, but Katrina lifted the little girl's chin up with a gentle finger. "That's okay," she assured the little girl. "How would you like to call me Kate instead?"_

_Her father frowned. "She should make an attempt to address you properly."_

_"Oh, Gavin. I promise you, it's quite alright. Many people have and still call me Kate."_

_"No one who isn't an _adult_, mother," sneered a dark-haired girl who stood behind Katrina. Her unpleasant pinched face had a frown aimed at the little girl._

_"Drusilla Marie, what did we talk about on the way over here?"_

_"That Dru would be nice," piped the other little girl behind Katrina. She was younger than Drusilla by a couple of years, perhaps about the same age or slightly older than Sydney. Her auburn hair contrasted sharply against Drusilla's, but the two were obviously sisters. She twitched her shoulders back and forth and smirked at the older girl._

_"Thank you, dear, but I was asking your sister," said Katrina._

_"I didn't say a single mean word," protested Drusilla._

_"And what about your tone of voice, young lady?" asked her mother._

_"Fine. I'll be nice." Drusilla crossed her arms over her chest. It was clear to Sydney that this girl was anything but nice._

_"Excellent," said Katrina turning back to Sydney. "Now, I'm Kate." She smiled until Sydney smiled in return. "These are my daughters, Anna and Dru. They're going to be your new sisters."_

_"Nice to meet you, Sydney. My name is really Anastasia, but you can call me Anna if it's easier for you," she said. Anastasia elbowed the older girl, who gave her a glare that promised retribution._

_"Nice to meet you, Sydney," said Drusilla._

_"Nice to meet you, Anna," said Sydney. "Nice to meet you, Dlu... Duhlu... Du... Du..."_

_"Doo-doo!" squeaked Anastasia._

_The older girl turned her threatening glare to Sydney._

* * *

_Seven-year-old Sydney crept silently down the dark hallway in her footed pajamas, stopping at the top of the stairs that she knew would squeak under her feet. She could hear the voices of her parents better, but she still couldn't make out the words. She carefully stepped with her toes along the banister as she made her way down the steps._

_"... because she was asking me about Titiania," she heard her stepmother say._

_"That woman will never cease to make new living hells for my life," said her father. Gavin Carter never spoke to his daughter about her mother from his first marriage, and became angry when she tried. Sydney had finally gathered enough courage to ask Kate. Her stepmother had shown her what little she could... which sadly amounted to a meager number of legal documents and a single photograph kept in the safe behind the wall in the master bedroom._

_"She was curious, Gavin dear." Sydney could hear the clink of ice cubes in a glass and the sound of liquid being poured. "Here, have a drink. You must have known that she would become curious sooner or later. I had realized it was a sensitive subject, but shouldn't the girl have the right to know about her mother?" asked Katrina. _

_"That woman was no good. I should have listened to my Aunt Blanche. I _never_ should have married her, let alone have a child with that she-devil."_

_Sydney held a hand up to her mouth to stifle a gasp._

_"Gavin," scolded Katrina crossly; Sydney hadn't heard her stepmother raise her voice to her father since before she got pregnant. "Don't ever let Sydney hear you say that."_

_"Of course not. I'm angry at the bitch, not the daughter I had with her."_

_Katrina sighed. "I'm going to have to take a seat. My feet are so swollen and ache terribly." Sydney heard some shuffling. It was a delay tactic that Sydney recognized. Ever since she began to show and when they started arguing, her stepmother would suddenly need help. She was a strong woman who saw her husband's weakness for 'fragile' pregnant women... and exploited it. "Thank you, Gavin dear."_

_"Of course," he murmured. Sydney leaned over the railing and heard her father taking another sip of his drink._

_"Look, the baby will be here soon," said Katrina. "I'll spend time with Sydney and encourage her to bond with her new sister. Perhaps, the relationship will fill whatever hole Sydney still feels from the loss of her mother."_

_Her father said nothing, but Sydney sensed that he was pacing the room. "Sharon," said Katrina after a moment. "I want a much simpler name for my child this time."_

_"I still like Elizabeth," said Gavin._

_"Maybe," said Katrina. She looked up from the lounge chair, and saw Sydney dangling from the staircase. She nodded subtly, indicating that Sydney should leave. Sydney mouthed 'okay' and started to make her way back upstairs._

_"I'll agree to whatever name you decide. Just do me a favor, and discourage any thoughts or questions about Titiania that Sydney has."_

_"I understand."_

_"I'm serious, Katrina. Nothing makes me more furious..."_

_Sydney was too far away to hear anything further._

* * *

_Hearing her name being called, eleven-year-old Sydney bounded down the staircase, taking two steps at a time. Drusilla was walking up the stairs and stuck out a leg to trip her stepsister. Sydney tried to hop over it, but tumbled anyway. She rolled across the Persian rug at the foot of the stairs, but then jumped up and stood with her arms raised above her head like a gymnast at the Olympics. She turned and gave Drusilla a triumphant smile._

_Fifteen year old Drusilla merely smirked back and made a waving gesture, shooing Sydney towards Katrina._

_"Sydney!" Katrina called again. Drusilla grinned maliciously._

_Walking slowly to hide the fact that her leg hurt, Sydney found her stepmother in the kitchen._

_"Yes, Katrina?"_

_Her stepmother was drying her hands on a towel. "Sydney, where is the photograph?"_

_The young girl crinkled her eyebrows and rubbed her nose. She looked beyond Katrina's left shoulder and out the window above the kitchen sink at the carefully manicured lawn. "Photograph?" she asked slowly._

_Katrina put down the towel and sat at the breakfast table. "I warn you, young lady. It would be better if you remained silent rather than lie to me."_

_"Did Dru rat me out?" asked Sydney._

_"That's not an answer to my question, but whether or not Drusilla was spying on you should not be your main concern right now."_

_Sydney pulled on one of her pigtails and shifted uncomfortably before giving a small sigh and sitting at the table as well. When she said nothing, Katrina rapped her knuckles on the tabletop and pointed at her._

_"I hid it," Sydney said finally._

_"Give it back."_

_"No," said Sydney firmly._

_"I will not keep this disobedience from your father, young lady."_

_"Tell him, I don't care. It won't make a difference. Everything I do makes him angry anyway. All because I remind him of someone I don't remember, so I'm keeping her picture. It's not like Daddy wants it."_

_"Sydney, I've seen this confrontation between you and your father coming for a long time. Please take my advice, now is not the time to fight him on this."_

_"Would there ever be a good time to have a fight?"_

_"No, of course not." Katrina sighed and leaned back in her chair. "Sweetheart," she said gently. "Well... never mind. We'll discuss that when you're older."_

_"I'm old enough, Katrina. I graduate _high school_ this year. As far as I'm concerned, I'm older than Drusilla." _That snitch, _thought Sydney. _She'll do _anything _to get me in trouble.

_"Perhaps, sweetheart." Her stepmother smiled. "How would you feel about staying with your Aunt Blanche for a while? There are some excellent universities near her, and I'm sure she would love for you to go to school up there. I'd miss you. Beth would miss you." She hesitated. "But, it might be best for you to put some distance between yourself and your father. You two seem to get so angry at each other lately."_

_"Daddy wouldn't miss me."_

_"Don't say that, sweetheart."_

_"Why not?" Sydney shrugged. "It's the truth, and I'd rather say that than remain silent."_

* * *

§

* * *

Naked, Loki collapsed upon reaching his prison cell in the dungeon, his scarred and bleeding body limp as a boneless fish. The energy shield sparked to life as Eir walked in after him.

She magicked a sheet over his lower torso in an attempt to treat him with respect and afford him a token amount of modesty.

"Worried I might ravish you without such a barrier?" he joked weakly.

"No, my prince. Perhaps though you should fear what a woman of my advanced years might forcibly take upon seeing such an excellent specimen of youthful man flesh."

Loki tried to laugh, but began moaning in pain instead. The physician struggled to get the injured man up on his feet, and then she helped him to lie down on his prison cell's tiny cot.

"Hush now, nephew," Eir murmured. She began examining his festering wounds. "As I feared, you are not healing as well as I would hope. Did your punishment not end a day prior as I had asked?"

"It did end a day early, a most welcome surprise. Have I you to thank for that reprieve?"

"You do," she said, frowning as she bound his sores with shimmering gauze.

Loki reached up with a disfigured hand, stilling her movements. "Thank you, Aunt."

She gently cupped his cheek where it was still free from injury. "I do this on behalf of your mother the queen, for if she knew of this she would weep unending tears. I do this for you, who deserves a healer's touch after enduring unimaginable suffering. Give me not your gratitude, for I do not deserve it."

"How so?" Loki asked sleepily as the healing powers of the bandages began to take effect.

"That I never pushed for you to know the truth of your birth, not once throughout the centuries. That I have yet at present to push enough to end this abominable punishment."

"That... Nay. 'Tis not your fault," Loki slurred.

"Aye, 'tis that of my brother's doing."

Loki moaned softly. "How I hate him," he sighed.

Eir stroked his hair as if he were but still a child. "That's good, my boy."

It took Loki a moment for his drug soaked brain to process what the old woman had said. "What?" he asked in confusion.

"Odin behaved like a fool in the past and is currently no better than a Bilgesnipe trampling everything in its path. Hate is an appropriate response."

Loki chucked softly.

"Rest, nephew." She began to hum a soothing melody, lulling him to sleep. Carefully as not to disturb the boy's slumber, she lifted a blood-crusted lock of his dark hair away from his face and gently tucked it behind an ear.

"The opposite of love is not hate, child. It is ambivalence," she whispered. "That you feel enmity gives me hope, not cause for concern. Hate and love can twist around each like the limbs of Yggdrasil, especially when it comes to the matters of family." She stood, dimming the lights of the prison cell. The energy shield flickered off as she approached the perimeter and blinked back on once she was in the hallway. "Believe me," she muttered as she walked past the guards towards the exit of the dungeon, "I grew up with that witless oaf."


	25. The past will come to haunt you

**Author's Note**

**Okay, just to make it clear: the beginning of this story is set prior to _Thor: The Dark World_. Actually, let's just all pretend that _TTDW_ didn't happen, because (spoiler) I'm not killing off Frigga nor is Jane going to be possessed by the Aether. I can't recall if I've told all y'all this before, or if that was in a PM to someone who asked me when I responded to a review. Also, this fic happens prior to and somewhat during _Guardians of the Galaxy_. If you are not familiar with the other movies in the Marvel Cinematic Universe and any part of my story is unclear, then please let me know and I'll flesh it out. Hopefully, the new characters in this chapter won't throw you for a loop, but I've kept it short (just in case).**

**Sections entirely in _italics_ denote flashbacks. Dialogue in both "_italics and quotations_" denote telepathic conversations. Numbers in [brackets] denote footnotes, which you can find at the bottom of the chapter. Nothing from the Marvel universe is mine.**

**~ Refictionista, December 9, 2014 **[UPDATED: January 15, 2014]

* * *

§ **Chapter XXIV **§  
the past will come to haunt you

* * *

Before creation itself, the nothingness was held together by six singularities. Then... the universe exploded into existence, and the remnants of these systems were forged into concentrated ingots. The Infinity Gauntlet was designed to hold these six ingots, better known as the Infinity Stones. The Tesseract was one such stone.

Consequently, there were five others, each with its own unique properties. Each stone grants its bearer complete mastery over one aspect of the multiverse: Time, Space, Mind, Soul, Reality, and Power. When used in combination with their already impressive powers, the Infinity Gauntlet makes the wearer able to do _anything_ he wants; however, this glove, it seems, can only be brandished by a being of extraordinary strength. Thanos, the last son of A'Lars, had long wished to use the stones to mow down entire civilizations and reap their souls. In his mad desperation to win the affections of Death, he dreamt of harvesting them like wheat in a field.

All enlightened beings and civilizations condemn the use of such savage power. Those like Thanos must hide in the shadows to grow in strength in order to reach their devastating and destructive goal.

Far beyond the reaches of the Asgardians and the nine realms, there is a pocket universe that hides itself from the rest of the galaxy. It is a dark, evil place and one without time. Death herself gave this... _Sanctuary_... to Thanos as his domain, a reward for the many souls he had already gifted to her.

Somewhere in Sanctuary, kneeling before a dark throne that floating above her, a cloaked figure waited for her turn to speak... as one did not speak to Thanos, known to all who feared as the Mad Titan, without being first spoken to _and then_ asked.

The Other was addressing Thanos, his jarring metallic voice hissing like acid dancing over molten rock. "The Chitauri have failed," he reported. "The Asgardians have the Tesseract. The one we called our ally has since betrayed us. Now... this _female_ requests an audience, yet beware... she herself once knew the heat of the traitor's warm bed."

Angrboða cringed, she had not expected the Other to know of this.[41] She pushed the hood of her cloak off her beautiful blonde hair and dared to raise her gaze to the base of the throne, showing Thanos that she did not fear the truth.

The Mad Titan's white teeth contrasted brightly against his hard purple hide as he smiled at Angrboða. "This I already knew, as I court Mistress Death. Long has my consort been well aware of Hela, Queen of Helheim, the daughter you birthed from mating with Loki." It was neither a statement nor a question, yet he waited for her response. "Speak," he commanded.

"Yes, Lord Thanos," replied Angrboða. "I seduced Loki centuries ago to produce Hela, not that my ungrateful progeny has yet to serve my wishes.[42] Does my past with this traitor concern you?"

"Concern? No. Only curious. After the second prince of Asgard failed to serve his purpose, Thanos of Titan could not care less whether he lives or dies." He turned back to the Other. "The past is dead. The present, my vizier, is war."

"Of course, my Lord," sniveled the Other.

"What is it that you wish of me?" Angrboða asked the Other. "Have you agreed to grant an audience to me before Thanos in exchange for capturing Prince Loki?"

The Other scoffed at the suggestion. "We have no need of _you_ to reach the traitor. He was warned that if he failed, then there will be no realm, no barren moon, no crevice where Lord Thanos couldn't find him."

Thanos laughed, "Indeed. He thinks he knows pain? I will make him long for something as sweet as pain."

"I have long sought to serve the Dark Lord. What purpose do you have for me?" Angrboða asked, still addressing the Other.

The vizier nodded. "Lord Thanos has need of _all_ six Infinity Stones in order to wield the Infinity Gauntlet," he began. "Odin has the Tesseract. That prize, the Space Stone, was promised to Thanos by Loki, but there are still other stones that must be acquired. Another rumored to be held by Odin as well." The Other curled his lips in disdain. "The Asgardians are a pitiful race with delusions of grandeur."

"Indeed, they hold what is mine. It is no matter, for I shall paint the star-ways with their blood for this transgression. I already have plans to acquire the Tesseract and," Thanos paused to sneer, "to _reacquire_ the Chitauri scepter at the same time."

"He refers to the Mind Stone," the Other said quietly to Angrboða.

"The Asgardians do not know the power of the weapon they took from Loki. It is unwise of them to keep two Infinity Stones in the same place. What I need from you, sorceress, is the Soul Stone, otherwise known as the Eye of Providence. I have received word that it was discovered long ago by Agamotto among the skies and stars, where it had drifted for ages. He took it to a realm you are familiar with, the human world, and that you in turn have sought for it." Thanos smiled, noting Angrboða sought permission to address him. "Speak," he said, leaning back on his throne.

"On Asgard, it was known as the Eye of Agamotto. It was stolen from Odin's vault of treasures by my grandfather, Set. He gave it to Osiris, ruler of Helopolis, as thanks for overthrowing Atum-Ra, who once tried to destroy him."[43]

"You claim it resides in Helopolis?" asked Thanos, narrowing his eyes at her.

_He knows_, thought Angrboða. "No, my Lord. As you said, it resides in Midgard, the human world. It was lost there when Set battled with Osiris to rule Helopolis. There have been reports of it throughout the history of that little world, where it came to be known as the Apple of Eden." She stood straight to give length to her long neck and a view of her ample breasts, "It is my birthright to claim this stone. For centuries, I sought it. I almost laid claim to it, until it was taken from my grasp by a mere hedge witch. In truth, I now know not where it is or who has it."

"Rejoice then," said Thanos. "We know where the Soul Stone is hidden. What boon would you request, were you to take back what is yours and then give it to me?"

Angrboða considered the query. Were she to finally get her hands on the stone and dare to keep it, Thanos would kill her. Yet, the stone itself was no more than a means to an end. What did she truly want?

"I am willing to cleave myself from the stone so you can create your Infinity Gauntlet and with it destroy worlds of souls for you to give in tribute to your consort, Mistress Death. I want, in short, what all _humble _villains want."

"And what's that?" asked the Other.

"Everything," she laughed. "A world, a realm of my own and the power to rule over everything and everyone that resides within my domain."

"That we can assent to," said the Other. "We will honor this agreement and give you a world of your choosing. Consider it an honor to be tasked with this mission; few in the company of Thanos for such a short period have been given an opportunity like this to serve him... and with such ease. You will be pleased to know, as Thanos said, that we know where the stone, this _Apple of Eden_, is hidden."

"I sent a Kree construct, a gift of subservience from another of my acolytes, Ronan the Accuser, to this human world." Thanos leaned back in his throne, a sign to the Other to speak on his behalf.

"Ronan holds fast to the ancient beliefs of the Kree, and with that comes their earliest and most powerful magic. We sent the construct he created to spy on the humans from the shadows. It has brought us news, and now we wish you to join our efforts in retrieving the stone." He turned behind him to call for the creature. "Come. Approach no further. Speak from where you stand."

A dark shadow flowed like water towards them. Plumes of vapor shifted, dispersed and then coalesced again. It gradually took the shape of a truly terrifying monster. "Thy bidding is done," it said. "The witch will soon not be a problem. We can soon go to Midgard to retrieve the relic shortly." The construct chuckled as if it had amused itself; two rows of sharp teeth were protruded menacingly in its attempt to smile.

Angrboða narrowed her eyes dangerously and said nothing. _Was it fool enough to eliminate the one who last felt the power of the stone?_

The Other hissed, his artificial voice filled with anger. "You were ordered not to harm her," he said and glanced over to the construct slyly. "I hope for your sake that you have not."

The construct's smile fell. It did not know if the witch had been injured; it left the human world after affirming that the other, younger girl was broken beyond repair. Its look of guilt was evident to all.

At this Angrboða rose slowly from prostration and practically glided over to the creature now cowering in fear. With a flick of her wrist, his body began to seemingly be pulled up by an invisible force around his neck. His grey hue became purple as he grew more and more desperate for air. Unable to return to its non-corporal state, he coughed, his eyes bulging and wide, as he clawed at neck. With another subtle hand movement, he was thrown forcefully against the rock wall. "Tell me now, worthless rassragr.[44] Did you touch one hair on her head?" she hissed.

It looked up in fear at Thanos, pleading. "No, Lord Thanos! I followed your instructions implicitly; I did not harm her," he sputtered. He began to slide slowly down the wall. "There was another girl, one not a witch. She is the one that I..."

"You spoke... and not through any intermediary!" Thanos roared. "You spoke directly to me!"

"You will pay for this insolence!" screamed the Other, slashing across its face with his talons. He turned to Angrboða. "Discipline this pathetic creature further as you see fit. Keep it if you still have need of it, but kill it if you wish. The task of retrieving the stone is yours, as are all who have served Thanos to retrieve it before you."

Angrboða bowed her head again. "I will serve you and your master well." She glared at the construct and turned angrily, pulling the hood of her cloak over her golden hair as she strode away from the floating throne. She didn't even look behind her as she threw a ball of energy over her shoulder that hit the construct with another strangling hold around its neck, throwing it into the rock wall behind it once more. It sagged limply down to the ground and struggled no more.

* * *

§

* * *

[41] **In the Marvel comic's universe, this character's name is Angrboda (an Anglicized version of Angrboða). The 'ð' character is called the voiced dental fricative, a type of consonantal sound. It is familiar to English speakers as the _th_ sound in _father_ or_ this_. Yet, not once have I ever seen it spelled out as Angrbotha. Am I the only one who thinks this is oddly interesting? FYI, the _voiceless_ dental fricative is the character 'θ' as in the English _thin_.**

[42]** In Norse Mythology, Hel is the Jötunn daughter of Loki and Angrboða (Marvel renamed her Hela). The same parentage was alleged to be true in the comics, but (and I didn't know this myself until doing some fact checking) this was proven false in a 2012 comic, _Journey into Mystery Vol 1 #645_. I'm keeping Hela as his daughter, because she's already in my story outline and I have no idea how to rewrite Loki's back story with Angrboða without that. In the original mythology, Loki and Angrboða are both Frost Giants from Jötunheimr, as is Hel. Hel rules a realm with the same name (though sometimes it is referred to as Helheim). This dreary subterranean abode is the final destination of those who do not die in battle, but of old age or disease. It is _not_ synonymous with the Christian/Jewish/Islamic Hell.**

[43]** In the comics, the 'Ennead' were the Gods of Heliopolis. They were based on the gods of Ancient Egypt. Like the Olympians in the comics (and the Asgardians, obviously), they have some pretty interesting storylines.**

[44]** I added an explanation on this word (rassragr) in _Loki: Lover of Fidelity, Appendixes_... in which doing so it changed the rating from K+ to M, due to some coarse language and a discussion on adult themes. You can find a link to that 'story' on my bio page. It is interesting if you like history.  
**


	26. What remains after fire and brimstone

**Author's Note**

**Hello, my beloved tens of readers! It has been a month, have you missed me? You might notice that the name of this chapter is the same as one we had before, yet that chapter is now missing.  
**

**Confession time: I screwed up. _Royally_. In my haste to upload scenes that I had already written, I completely disregarded my outline. I had to go back and rewrite a chapter to include missing scenes, move a scene there to this one, and basically make sure everything was in the correct order. It was pretty disheartening, and I am really embarrassed about it... hence my procrastination. Please forgive me.**

**** For the most part everything remained the same, but it would perhaps behoove you to go back to _Chapter XXII: when in destruction, create something_. That is where that missing scene was inserted. ****

**Sections entirely in _italics_ denote flashbacks. Dialogue in both "_italics and quotations_" denote telepathic conversations. Numbers in [brackets] denote footnotes, which you can find at the bottom of the chapter. Nothing from the Marvel universe is mine.**

**~ Refictionista, January 15, 2014**

* * *

§ **Chapter XXV **§  
what remains after fire and brimstone

* * *

Sif was laughing at the banter between Fandral and Volstagg. Chuckling at Fandral's exaggerated recollections of leading them into glorious battles, Thor shook his head and happened to glance over at Loki as the group traveled together from the palace. Though Loki rode with them, he and his steed had fallen slightly behind, seemingly detached. His brother had been quiet most of the journey and was... pale... rather paler than usual. _Likely, the spectrum of light reflected from the Bifröst was the cause_.

Suddenly realizing that he had previously entertained the exact same thought, Thor no longer shrugged off the observation. He scrutinized Loki closely. His usual emotionless face seemed haunted. There were dark circles under his eyes, his _dull_ green eyes. His skin had a slightly grey tinge, and it had a sheen from perspiration. _How? It was a pleasant day_. The truth was clear, Loki did not look well... just as he hadn't looked well the last time they left Asgard, only this time it was worse.

Loki had always looked different. Enhanced by his black hair, Loki's coloring distinctly contrasted with the prevailing ruddy Asgardian complexion. However, this was not the same thing. _Perhaps if_...

"Speak and make your mind known, Prince of Asgard," said Loki with a scowl, surprising Thor. "I can sense your blundering thoughts and they are not to my liking."

Thor missed the days when Loki was all mischief and smiles.

"I'm concerned about you," Thor confessed quietly. Fandral and Volstagg continued rehashing their tall tales boisterously, but Sif's smile fell and she looked over to Thor and Loki. Hogun's grim expression remained unchanged, but he too glanced over at them... though without turning his head.

"What warrants such interest?" Loki asked.

"Should your brother not care for you?" snapped Sif. Fandral and Volstagg stopped talking and began paying attention to the drama unfolding. "You are an ungrateful brother. After everything Thor has done for you, it is disgraceful. Does your jealousy know no limits?"

Fandral cringed. "Sif, please..."

Sif took in a breath, but Loki beat her to the punch. "Do not placate her. She was just getting started." He made a clicking noise, and spurred Gyllir into a trot. The horse slowed down once again once it had past the group.

Thor turned to Sif. "Lady Sif," his tone was formal and stiff, "you had no right to interfere in my conversation."

"He is up to something," insisted Sif. "There is no reason for him to be that weary after a sennight of _lazing_ about in a prison cell."

"Loki's always been one for mischief, but you give credence to suspicions where there is entirely a lack of evidence to do so," said Fandral.

"He is not lazing about," growled Thor. "The All-father has seen fit to punish him more than simply confining him to a cell."

"What manner of punishment?" asked Volstagg.

"I know not," said Thor curiously. Ahead, Loki had reached Heimdall's observatory and was dismounting from Gyllir's saddle. The group slowed their own steeds as well.

"Perhaps," said the usually silent Hogun, "you should know."

* * *

Thor thought that the agents meeting them at the Bifröst site seemed more on edge than usual. His superior Asgardian vision could see their watchful eyes behind the darkened visors. Thor couldn't remember what those were called... _Sungoggles? _He wanted a pair. _I'll have to ask Jane to procure me some of those... Odin's beard... what are those called? _Thor looked beyond the eye-wear of the immediate agents to notice at least fifteen additional guards, all heavily armored with unsheathed weaponry, surrounding them nearby.

"What manner of greeting is this?" Thor boomed. Worried, he looked over to Loki. His brother was doing his best to stand straight, but it was obvious he was weak with exhaustion. Likely this was due to their Father's punishment, but at this moment Loki needed rest. He would not allow the humans to interfere with that.

"_They are not here for me, something has happened,_" said Loki.

Thor gave Loki a patronizing scowl. "_Enough with your tricks. Conversing thus will only serve to frighten the mortals. Speak publicly._"

"_No._" Loki looked away. "_I am too weary to do so._"

Turning his attention to one agent standing apart from the others, Thor stepped forward. "I am not in the habit of repeating myself. Why has S.H.I.E.L.D. chosen to meet us at the appointed time of our arrival with such display of force?"

"Sir, no disrespect was meant to you." It was clear that the agent didn't include Loki in that statement. "An incident occurred while you were gone. Precautions must be taken while we are under a state of alert." He gestured to a nearby line of black SUVs. "Please, this way."

"What has happened?" asked Thor. "Why has the Lady Jane not come to greet me?"

"Sir, I can honestly tell you that I don't have that information."

"_What information does he have?_" asked Loki.

Thor grunted at Loki's attempt to ask yet not ask a question. Though, truthfully Thor had thought the same thing. "What information can you give me?" he acquiesced. "I insist on speaking with Lady Jane."

The lead S.H.I.E.L.D. agent glanced over at Loki warily. "What I know came to me second-hand at best; I wouldn't call it reliable." He held open the vehicle door for Thor and Loki. "There is a phone you can use in the backseat. You can call Dr. Foster from that." Thor and Loki climbed inside, and the door was shut behind them.

The S.H.I.E.L.D. logo rotated in the display on the panel mounted over the console. "How hard can this be?" he quietly asked himself. "Call Lady Jane," he said loudly. The logo kept turning on the screen. "Jane Foster," he clarified. Still nothing happened.

"_Having troubles?_" asked Loki.

Thor pressed the buttons at the bottom of the display, clearly lost. "_No,_" he snapped.

"_I thought you knew all about Midgardian technology from the 'extensive' time you have spent here._"

"_No, I said that Jane showed me how to use her communication device. I often borrow it to play a game called_ Clash of Clans._ In it, I wage epic battles. I have never had to call her, as she is always there._"

"_Well, whatever you're doing brother, I suggest you do it faster. We'll get to the Man of Iron's tower by the time you figure this out._"

Thor smiled at Loki's use of the word brother. "_Shut up, Loki._"

Loki was smirking too now. "_You must have missed something._"

"_No, I didn't. I'm pressing every button on this thing._" After hitting a button, the screen went dark. Thor smacked the display.

"_No, don't hit it. Just press it gently._"

Thor punched the screen. "_I was pressing it gently! That approach was not working!_" He hit it again, and the glass cracked. Thor sat back in his seat quickly.

"Ha ha!" laughed Loki aloud.

"_Can you fix it?" _asked Thor.

"No," said Loki loudly. "I will not fix the likely expensive communication device that you just broke. Thor, you should have known better than to strike it so roughly."

The S.H.I.E.L.D. agent sitting in the passenger seat turned around to look at the two Asgardians. Then he noticed the broken video phone and frowned.

Thor grimaced and closed his eyes. They would be at the tower soon_._

* * *

§

* * *

"Your input would be appreciated," said Directory Fury.

Sydney Bergström rolled her eyes. "It sounds like you want to replace me," she accused.

Deputy Director Hill made a face. "No. Like he said, your input and expertise in these matters would be appreciated."

"Make up your minds," spat the young woman. "And don't lie to me. Either you want me to be part of this or you think I'm... what... Not qualified? Untrustworthy?"

Dr. Banner leaned towards her. "You're qualified," he said gently. "She's qualified," he declared to the two high ranking S.H.I.E.L.D. operatives. "And trustworthy."

"We just want a second opinion," Hill explained.

"Why not ask the Prince of Darkness?" inquired Tony Stark, still leaning back in his chair with dark sunglasses over his eyes and his arms crossed. This got the attention of the others, though not for what he said. Everyone else had thought he was asleep, due to either the time zone change or the aftereffects of being drunk.

"You're suggesting that I get the advice of a _war criminal_?" growled Fury.

And at the same time Hill said, "Absolutely not."

Bergström glared at Director Fury and Commander Hill. She wished that they would give Loki a break. She wished that they would give _her_ a break. _But that's an argument for another time. _She shook her head and took a deep breath, "Fine. Alright. I'll make a call." She tossed her backpack on the table and rummaged through the contents. After a moment, she made a small noise of triumph and came out clutching a silver oval cruet.

Banner looked confused and reached for the iPhone clipped to his belt, "I've got a cell phone you could use."

"It's not that kind of call," she replied. Bergström unscrewed the stopper and poured out a fine yellow powder speckled with black crystals. She rubbed it between her hands and blew gently on them. It reeked horribly with the odor of rotten eggs.

Romanoff made a face, "What is that _smell_?"

"Brimstone," Dr. Bergström replied. "Well, mostly. This mixture is 85% pure elemental sulfur."

"What is the other 15%?" asked Dr. Banner curiously.

"Why are you touching that with your bare hands?" asked Stark with concern.

"You wouldn't believe me, even if I told you," Bergström said with a laugh. When their expressions didn't lighten up, she sighed. "It's simply pelagic magic. Don't worry," she assured them. She stood and pushed away her chair, careful not to touch the upholstery with her palms. She walked over to the floor to ceiling windows overlooking the agency's indoor atrium and ran her hands along the top, smearing the powder and leaving a crumbly xanthous residue behind.

Stark held his nose. In a nasally voice he asked, "Would the crazy lady care to share with the class why she is making this room smell like a fart?"

Bergström didn't pause or even turn her dark-haired head around to acknowledge him. She kept on task, tracing a large rectangle on the glass surface with the mixture from her hands. Once she was finished, she walked back to her seat and then removed a small towel from her backpack. She carefully wiped her hands clean and turned to Stark, "I know it stinks, but the smell will be gone in just a moment."

"What happens in a moment?" asked Commander Hill.

"I light the portal," she answered.

"You're making a portal!" exclaimed Fury.

"You're igniting sulfur!" exclaimed Stark and Banner.[45]

The witchy scientist snapped her fingers before anyone could react further. The rectangle on the window instantly lit and glowed with a greenish blue light. Those seated had pushed back from the table and were poised to jump, but they froze upon realizing that the disgusting odor had evaporated. Everyone relaxed, but only slightly. "Give it a minute," she said. Dark cracks began to appear within the azure border; they grew wider until entirely covering everything. The colors began shifting and swirling, the rectangle around it pulsing brightly. The surface darkened further, and then became a matte grey. It grew brighter, shinier and more dazzling as threadlike strands of silver corded through it.

It looked like perfectly polished metal... it looked like...

"I had to make a mirror large enough for us all to use," said Bergström walking around the conference table once more towards it. She giggled, "For a conference call, get it?"

"We could have brought in a mirror," remarked Fury unhappily. He narrowed his one eye and glowered at her.

"What would have been the fun in that?" she said mischievously. Bergström could feel his unseeing eye under his eye patch glaring at her as well. She tapped a hand against her thigh in a nervous gesture. "Tough crowd," she muttered. _Zero sense of humor_, she thought.

"What now?" asked Romanoff.

* * *

Sydney smiled and began to chant in a singsong voice.

_"Mirror, mirror on the wall, _  
_Show Blanche's friend, Jeanne Dubois."_

"Are you joking?" asked Maria Hill.

Tony started laughing.

At first nothing happened, but then Sydney Bergström's reflection in the mirror smiled and nodded. Then the reflection, _not the physical woman before them_, walked away and stepped out of view to the shock of the others in the room. They stared in disbelief at the reflective surface of the mirror showing everyone else _but_ the young witch. After that, the image of the conference room dissolved into vapors.

The smoke cleared, and a tall, grey-haired woman applying ruby-red lipstick, in what appeared to be a public restroom, stood there instead. The open "o" of her mouth closed quickly, and it turned out that she had a very stern face. From the look she gave, she was not someone to cross.

"Sydney, twice in one week. I should be honored; however, lovely as it is to see you again, I'm afraid we can't have _private_ conversation here. I am indisposed at the moment. I know for a fact that your aunt taught you better than to call upon someone _unannounced_. My word... Are those _men_ behind you? Sydney Gina Bergström, this is a _women's_ restroom. They have absolutely no business here."

"Please, Miss Dubois, you know me. I wouldn't have called you without prior warning if it wasn't both urgent and important."

"By goddess... _never_ in all my years... one moment," Jeanne threw the lipstick tube into her purse and took out a compact. She snapped it open and looked at the tiny mirror.

The reflection suddenly changed to show Jeanne as reflected from the compact, her now larger than life face encompassing the entire mirror made from the rectangle on the glass wall of the conference room. She was now blocking out most of the background of the bathroom behind her. Jeanne walked over to one of the bathroom stalls, going inside and then locking the door behind here. "Make it quick," she said.

"I... _we_ have need of assistance from a Witch of the South on a... delicate matter."

"Why do you have need of terrene spells? Who are your... _friends_?" Jeanne's asked, her large eyes looking around the conference room at each of the Avengers.

* * *

§

* * *

"Where is Loki?"

Thor, sitting on one of the couches trying in vain to console a sobbing Jane Foster, rolled his head over to look at his fellow Avenger. "We have but just arrived. You know that my brother's punishments wear heavily upon him; Loki rests," he answered.

Hawkeye snorted. "Yeah. Well, we're all tired, yet we're all..."

"It is just that Fury wants him in there to answer questions," interrupted Captain Rogers, attempting to placate Barton's words. "Sydney's the only other magic user we know, but she's just a kid. Fury just wants to know what happened."

Thor wrinkled his brow. "The maiden seems the more prudent choice of advisor. My brother claims she is competent, and I have no claim to doubt his assessment. Was she not here to witness the events as they unfolded and give testament?" Thor leaned away as the sounds of Dr. Foster's wails grew louder. "Loki was on Asgard, as was I. What answers could my brother derive from the lady's account that will give you that which I cannot?"

Hawkeye smacked the table with the heel of his hand. "We want you to _keep your word_ and give us some cooperation."

_Damn_, thought Rogers.

Thor stood. The blonde behemoth said nothing, his hands clenched at his sides. Dr. Foster tried to reach for him, but he inhaled deeply and took a few steps away from all of them. Barton and Rogers slowly leaned back. Rogers shuddered, warily looking back and forth between the two. No one said a word. Thor turned and leaned forward, resting his fists on the back of the sofa. He appeared to be spending a great deal of effort on self-restraint. Through gritted teeth he said, "The answers you seek shall be yours." Thor straightened with a regal grace and left the room; his red-eyed fiancé quickly got up to follow him.

"Was that really necessary?" Rogers hissed to Barton after they were gone.

"What?"

Rogers gave Barton an incredulous look. "Questioning his honor. I think you almost made him flip his wig by doing that."

"Flip his..."

"He could have lost it. On you." Rogers thought it was important that Barton understand how pushing Thor like that was an incredibly bad idea. "Honor seems to be a big deal with them."

"Those Asgardians," growled the agent.

Rogers sighed. It was clear Barton didn't see his part of the blame in any of this.

The inside door at the rear opened and Romanoff burst through, her eyes wide and her red curls bouncing. She had a knowing smile on her face. "Where's Thor?" she asked.

Barton huffed and looked away. Romanoff narrowed her eyes at him, but then turned to Rogers, who had stood up when she came in the room.

"He went to go get Loki," said the soldier.

"Hmm... well, get up anyway. They'll have to join us later. Come on. Seriously, _get up_. You won't _believe_ what Sydney just did in the conference room."

* * *

§

* * *

[45] **Listen up kiddos; do _not_ do this at home. If you ignite sulfur, you get a combustion reaction and a pretty blue flame. Cool right? _No_. Why? Some of the oxygen in the reaction reacts with the sulfur solid... which forms sulfur dioxide. Yeah, bad mojo, 'cause SO2 is a poisonous gas. It is why people die from the toxic fumes around volcanoes. It will _not_ open a portal, show you a mirror spirit, or help you make a long distance magical phone call.**


	27. Entirely a matter of chance

**Author's Note**

**Hello, poppets. It seems that I ticked off some folks with my previous chapter and the whole misplaced scenes debacle, as I lost six followers within _two hours_ of posting it. Yes, I'm being paranoid. Yes, _again_. Sigh... that's what I get for screwing up.**

**Meh. Let's think of happy things... As I told you last week, I've been revising my outline to this story (for your benefit, _of course_), but I still had this itch to write something, anything. So... I started a second story. You can find the link on my bio page, if you are interested. It's a Harry Potter fanfic, and I would love for you to let me know what you think. It doesn't have _any_ sort of outline yet, because apparently I'm trying to live dangerously.  
**

**Sections entirely in _italics_ denote flashbacks. Dialogue in both "_italics and quotations_" denote telepathic conversations. Numbers in [brackets] denote footnotes, which you can find at the bottom of the chapter. Nothing from the Marvel universe is mine.**

**~ Refictionista, January 22, 2015  
**

* * *

§ **Chapter XXVI **§  
entirely a matter of chance

* * *

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single female in possession of an education, career and great hair must, from time to time, deal with bullshit from unrelated males... in addition to that of those actually related to her.

However, whoever said that you can choose your friends but not your family had vastly underestimated the forced bonds involved with a group of remarkable people.

"And then what happened?" asked Loki.

Sydney smirked. "And then I made an incorporeal portal out of brimstone, right there in the conference room." She laughed. "My Goddess, the place absolutely _reeked_."

"Had you used quicksilver as your base, then your portal could have been tangible and you could have crossed it. The odor would have also been less offensive."

"Maybe for you, but that won't work for us. Humans have a weakness with this little thing called Mercury poisoning. Personally, I like being able to see, hear, speak and walk... so no quicksilver."

"You could have easily shielded yourself."

"But, not the others," Sydney pointed out.

"They are immaterial," said Loki glibly.

"I _disagree_," said Sydney. Her tone was quiet but absolute.

Loki, realizing he had somewhat angered Sydney, sagely said no more. The two continued to sit in the common area, though now in silence.

Tony came over and plopped himself down on the couch next to Sydney, their thighs touching. She scooted over, but then he put his arm on the back of the sofa behind her.

Tony eyed the backpack on the floor between them in front of the couch. "So, doll. What else have you got in your little bag of magic tricks?"

"_It is the quest of every single man to annoy me today_," thought Sydney.

"_Surely, not me_," chided Loki.

"Old rule that is now being enforced," snapped Sydney. "Stay out of my head without permission, Loki. And if I didn't tell Fury then I'm not telling you, Tony."

"Don't let Reindeer Games or the Mocha Cyclops get to you," said Tony leaning over towards her. "I, personally, think your abilities are _fascinating_." He winked at her with the arrogance only a billionaire playboy could manage.

"Pepper," called out Sydney.

Like a mother of blame-shifting toddlers, the CEO of Stark Enterprises accessed the situation in less than three seconds. "Tony, leave her alone and get back over here."

"Not nice, Aquagirl. You know fully well that Pepper brought _paperwork_ with her," pouted Tony as he left.

Sydney began massaging her temples and calculated the likelihood of becoming violent... And how many of her friends she could take out on her own before she was subdued and eventually thrown into prison.

"Perhaps a game of strategy will take your mind off things," said Loki.

Sydney knew that she had to stop obsessing over that which she had no control over. "All right, what did you have in mind?"

"Hnefatæfl, a tæfl game," replied Loki.[46]

"I'm not familiar with it," said Sydney. Loki waved a hand, and after a swirl of green smoke dissipated, something that looked similar to a chess game arranged oddly on a Chinese Go-like board appeared on the coffee table before them. "_Ugh, they are called board games for a reason_," thought Sydney. Loki made a face but did not respond verbally or mentally.

"Similar, perhaps, to the game of chess your people play, though it uses dice." He showed her some small objects in his hand that looked suspiciously like knuckle bones. He set those down and picked up a carved piece made of a snowy-colored wood originally positioned at the center of the board. "This is the hnefi; it means _fist_ and it's the king piece, for which the game is named. _His objective_," Loki winked, "is to escape to the board's periphery, while the greater force's," he indicated the pieces on the outer edges, "objective is to capture him. Even with its rather simple rules, it requires tactical sense and the ability to understand your enemy's thinking."

He looked at her, expectantly. She guessed that he was trying to "play nice" as she had requested the last time he was on Earth. "I'm intrigued," said Sydney. "Let's play." Loki smiled.

Loki made a demonstration casting the die and moving a piece. "Notice how you position them like so during a move." He gestured to Sydney to attempt the same herself. It took a couple of tries, but she soon understood the mechanics of movement on the board.

Looking beyond Sydney's shoulder, Loki gazed out the window with an imperturbable expression. He murmured, loud enough for her to hear, "Now, the weaponless maids fight around their lord, the fair ones ever sheltering and the dark-haired ones ever attacking him."

"Weaponless maids?" asked Sydney with a frown.

"A riddle told to me by the one who taught me the game. The answer is Hnefatæfl, of course."

"Who taught you?"

"Frigga," Loki said hesitantly. "She taught me centuries ago, when I was a young boy."

Sydney nodded. "I see... It must be a fun game if you still enjoy playing it." She gave him a smile. "Okay, so which color is a good one for a beginner like me?"

Loki smirked. "You will play the white."

"Got it." She picked up the hnefi from the center of the game board, admiring the intricate designs chiseled into the piece. "I try to get myself to the edge of the board."

He looked directly at her. "Yes, you will try to escape; however, I will capture you long before you even get close."

* * *

"She lives, Jane. The value of which is of no small consequence."

Jane bit her lip. "Do you think the physicians on Asgard would have better luck treating her?"

Thor ground his jaw, choosing his words carefully. "Perhaps, but it is a boon I must ask of the All-father. Only he..."

"But she had permission to travel to Asgard before!" interjected Jane.

"As a witness and a participant of our wedding, my beloved," said Thor with regret. "The healing of her injuries is an entirely different matter." He looked down at the ashen-faced girl lying so very still on the hospital bed. "I also worry that she would perish on the journey. Traveling between realms will be difficult enough for a human." He ran a hand down her hair in a soothing manner.

"I agree, of course," said Jane. "Unless you knew of something that could transport her safely, I didn't see how it could have possibly been safe enough for Darcy to travel through an inter-dimensional portal."

Thor smiled, believing that matter resolved.

"Shall we ask another to go in her stead?" asked Thor.

"Someone other than... Darcy?" Jane replied, her voice breaking.

"Verily. The wedding cannot be postponed. The permission I sought from my father was that you be allowed the accompaniment of a friend. It matters not you bring another."

"I doesn't matter..." Jane started sobbing.

"Nay, sweet lady. Nay. I meant not that the well-being of your friend was no matter. Merely that we would not need to seek permission to ask another."

"Of... of course."

Thor looked again at their friend. He would have to ask Loki to visit the girl. There was the tinge of some strange magic here. He didn't have Loki's skill, and Thor knew no more than _something_ was there and that _something_ had happened.

* * *

_"What happened to her?"_

_Dr. Jane Foster gave Dr. Bergström a puzzled look. "I told you all that after you woke up," she replied._

_"No," said Bergström holding a hand out above the girl's midsection. "There is magic here. I'm not sure, but I think it is the same presence I felt before when..." She backed away from the bed, pulling her hand close. "Darcy was bewitched," she said in a whisper._

_"What do you mean?"_

_"How did Darcy's seat belt come undone? Bruce said that Natasha is absolutely certain that Darcy was strapped in correctly." Dr. Bergström waited a moment for an answer she knew wasn't coming. "Jane, think. It was because she unbuckled herself."_

_The resulting gasp from her friend belied nothing other than disbelief. "I can't believe you would say that!"_

_"Jane, please. Calm down. Something... dark... touched Darcy. It cast a spell over her, put her under its control. Like a trance."_

_"Excuse me," said a deep voice from behind them. Jane Foster made an "eep" sound while Sydney Bergström spun around._

_Director Fury stood in the doorway with his arms crossed._

_"Yes, Director?"_

_"I couldn't help overhearing." He ignored the roll of Dr. Bergström's eyes. "But you were saying you believe that Ms. Lewis was in a trance?"_

_"Yes."_

_"Agent Romanoff will be glad to hear your thoughts. Mind you, not that much could possibly shake that woman. She's comfortable with anything."_

_"You're right. I'll tell her, if you don't mind."_

_The Director nodded but then said "Just wait a second and answer this first. Do you have any way of proving that this happened? Is there any measurable evidence that some hocus pocus was involved?"_

_"I wouldn't lie, Director," Dr. Bergström said indignantly._

_"No, I'm sure you wouldn't; however, I make it a habit not to take anyone's word at face value... not that I don't appreciate your expertise, _doctor_. Go to Hill, fill out a report. Then you can go to Romanoff."_

* * *

"Sydney?"

Looking up from the game in front of her, Sydney turned to Jane. Her red-eyed friend had been crying. She was fidgeting, while Thor stood behind her with a kind smile. "Yes, Jane? Need something?"

Jane took a deep breath while Thor patted her gently on the back. "How would you feel about going to Asgard?"

Loki raised a brow and looked from Jane to Thor, and then he leaned back to better see Sydney. She turned to him.

_Did you know about this?_ asked Sydney. Loki gave a big huff and examined his nails as if in boredom. Sydney narrowed her eyes at him. "_Fine, my apologies. I take it back. Please talk to me._"

He smirked. "_No, lady. I did not know you would be invited to Asgard, but I must say that the realm will benefit more from your presence than it would from Lady Jane's._"

_You can be so rude, you do realize that? _Sydney rolled her eyes and turned to Jane. "I take it that I would be a replacement for Darcy?"

Jane bit her lip and hung her head. "Yes," she said softly.

"_Great. You can be in her shadow as I am in that of Thor's_," said Loki.

"_Shut up, Loki._"

Sydney reached out to grab her friend's hand. "No. Jane, please. Don't think like that. I'm _honored_ that you would ask me."

"You are?"

"Of course." Sydney stood up and gave her a hug. When she pulled back, Sydney noticed that Jane was smiling. Sydney wondered if it was the first time she had smiled since Darcy's... _accident_. She shook her head to concentrate on the here and now. Sydney had meant what she said to Jane, she was honored to go... if only to cheer Jane up somewhat.

"This calls for celebration!" boomed Thor.

Loki rolled his eyes, and Sydney had to admit that she agreed with the sentiment.

It was going to be a _long_ stay on Asgard.

* * *

§

* * *

[46] **Tæfl games, such as Hnefat******æ**fl, were early Scandinavian**** (between the 4th and 12th centuries)**** war strategy board games that were mentioned in several of the Old Norse sagas (I posted images on my tumblr page). It was played on a latticed game board with two armies of uneven numbers. The attacking force had the natural advantage at the start of each game, likely indicating an important cultural aspect by mimicking the success of Viking raids. Norse culture had other board games, such as _Skáktaf _(chess), but I've seen too many fanfics with Loki playing that. _Must. Be. Different._**


	28. When secrets are revealed

**Author's Note**

**Jumping jellybeans. I have more than 100 followers... if this number was a temperature then we'd be in Texas!**

**I know what you're going to say... _With the whole wide world of triple-digit humor, you go for Texan weather. Pathetic._ Well... Who cares? I feel awesome.**

**Sections entirely in _italics_ denote flashbacks. Dialogue in both "_italics and quotations_" denote telepathic conversations. Numbers in [brackets] denote footnotes, which you can find at the bottom of the chapter. Nothing from the Marvel universe is mine.**

**~ Refictionista, February 11, 2015**

* * *

§ **Chapter XXVII **§  
when secrets are revealed

* * *

Natasha cracked her knuckles and rolled her head slowly from side to side.

"I don't see why we're doing this," said Sydney, pulling her hair back with an elastic band. "I threw up a shield against Bruce. It was decent enough."

Bruce cringed, a movement that Sydney noticed even though he was standing far from the training ring. She silently mouthed an apology to him in return.

Steve looked up. "We can't allow you to go..."

"Excuse you... Allow me? I am: one, a grown ass woman, two, a frakin' witch, and three, this is not the time of the month you want to cross me." Steve's face reddened and paled at the same time, an impressive and comedic reaction to his uneasiness with the topic of menses. " You can't stop me, even if you tried." Sydney had turned to face him with her hands on her hips.[47]

The Black Widow smirked and flew forward without warning. She swept her right foot out in a high kick, hitting Sydney directly in the abdomen with a startled grunt. Taken completely by surprise, Sydney fell on her side, and Natasha quickly pinned her to the mat. Sydney thrashed about, her long black ponytail flapping around wildly. The two women were about the same size, but Natasha was stronger by far and wouldn't yield. She twisted Sydney's arm behind her painfully and punched towards her. With great effort, Sydney twisted and moved out of the way. Natasha punched again, hitting the younger woman's shoulder. Sydney tried again to free herself, but Natasha flipped her face down on the mat as she dug her knee into Sydney's upper back. It knocked the wind out of the witch.

Then the redheaded agent jumped up off of the witch wheezing beneath her. "As Steve said, we're doing this because Fury won't _allow_ you to go off world without at least some rudimentary defensive skills," she said.

"I already have some skills," Sydney argued. She started to get up, but then she thought better of it, deciding instead to lay back down. "And since when does Director Fury control how and _if_ I go to a friend's wedding?" She struggled to roll over onto her back. When she finally did, Sydney realized her mistake. She felt like a turtle, unable to get back up.

Natasha gave her an incredulous look. "You're making me think you aren't as smart as everything says you are. What happens if your magic isn't strong enough? What happens if it can only work on Earth? What happens if you don't have enough time or energy? You aren't thinking of this from every angle."

"You aren't putting Jane through this."

"You're complaining."

"I won't disagree with that assessment," said Sydney, closing her eyes and continuing to breathe deeply. "In my humble opinion, those with bruises from super assassins get to do so."

Natasha smirked. "Jane has Thor, you do not."

"I have magic."

"Shove it. We already covered that. You will get up, you will learn some basic maneuvers, and then you will be free to go."

"I don't like being _managed_. Consequently, you and Fury and S.H.I.E.L.D. don't own me."

The Black Widow narrowed her eyes. "This isn't about being controlled. This is about protecting a valuable asset, and since that's _you_ I would think you would take more of a vested interest in what I'm trying to teach you." The uncanny look she gave Sydney make the younger woman wonder if there was another message the agent was trying to convey. "Get up, _now_."

Sydney somehow managed to roll over and half stumbled across the ring. She slumped down once she made it to the ropes and tried to reach down to the floor below, the new bruises on her arm revealing themselves as she stretched. Bruce jogged forward, grabbed a sports bottle off the floor and then handed it to her. She grunted an approximation of "thanks" and took the bottle from him. She drank greedily, the healing power of the water slowly restoring her energy. If magic helped her recover faster, then maybe they would be down with this training session sooner.

It took a few minutes, but then Sydney rolled her arms in circles around and flexed her should blades back and forth. Her breathing had returned to normal.

"You're good to go." Natasha concluded. Sydney nodded. "It wasn't a question. Now, we try again."

The implication was that Sydney would be better prepared this time. She wasn't. Once again, Natasha had her pinned to the mat. This time, Natasha leaned over to instruct Sydney on how to get out of the hold. She grabbed Sydney's free arm, showing her in slow motion how to use it to free herself. Natasha released Sydney's arm and leaned forward again, closer this time.

Then in words spoken so softly Sydney almost thought she had imagined it, Natasha whispered, "Don't you find it odd that this is the first time you've decided to go somewhere?"

* * *

§

* * *

_Loki knew something was wrong._

_Volstagg's words rang in Loki's ears. "Don't let them grab hold of you!" the huge Asgardian warrior had shouted in warning to his comrades after the bare skin of his arm had blackened, necrotized by the freezing touch of the Jötun warrior._

_The god of mischief stared down at his forearm. It had turned blue, not black. There were no blisters. There was no pain. The Jötun monster released his grip and Loki's eyes widened as his skin returned to its normal coloring. Loki looked up at his enemy, who's red eyes shared the same confusion that he felt. Neither said anything or made any movement. Loki, realizing the Frost Giant's momentary distraction, took his advantage by thrusting his dagger deep into the creature's neck._

_The Frost Giant fell to the rocky dirt with a surprised look forever etched on its face. Loki took a couple of deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself. His glazed eyes were unfocused, but his mind swirled wildly with unwanted thoughts. He looked without blinking from the dead Jötun warrior to his arm and back again._

_The sound of fighting broke through the ringing in his ears. He turned to block the attack of another enemy combatant, fighting his way back to his brother and friends. Nothing was going according to his plans. All he wanted was for his father to see how petulant and selfish Thor could be... to reconsider his brother's coronation for a while and give Thor the needed time to mature. Yes, seeing Thor knocked down a few pegs would indulge a petty need for a little schadenfreud, but Loki hadn't wanted anyone killed. Thor was his brother _and_ his friend. Sometimes he was envious, but he never once doubted that he loved Thor._

That guard should be flogged. We never should have reached Jötunheim_, thought Loki. _Where is father?

_Loki cleared his mind and readied another spell. The ice above them shattered, fracturing into razor-sharp icicles that glinted in the dismal frozen field. Loki unleashed the energy to use the Jötun's own landscape against them in a swarm of icy shards, though it did no good in stopping the oncoming assault._

_The Warriors Three and Sif now had doubts etched deep in their faces. They couldn't hold out against the unending numbers of Jötun warriors for much longer. Fandral had just killed one when he was stabbed in the shoulder with an icicle. Hogun and Volstagg pulled their friend up as he howled in pain. Loki threw one of his daggers at the same monster who was now trying to impale Sif as well. She shared a look with him, and it seemed that they were in agreement for once._

_"Thor!" Sif called, hoping that he would see how they were outnumbered. Unfortunately, she had not attained Thor's attention to the dire situation._

_His brother continued to swing Mjölnir at their enemies, but the others noticed that for each Jötun that fell there would be five more that took its place._

Perhaps he was _still_ too petulant and selfish to admit their defeat and retreat_, Loki realized. These horrors had come to them because he alone had recognized that Thor was in no way fit to be king. He had allowed the desire for petty pleasure to overwhelm the purpose of his schemes._

_"We must go!" Loki shouted. His brother _had_ to grasp the foolishness of staying. Loki could fix this. He was the master of manipulation. They would survive and make it back to Asgard. Thor would mature, he would..._

_"Then go!" the crown prince declared. Loki felt a constriction on his heart once he noticed that Thor's eyes were filled with bloodlust._

_Nothing had gone according to plan. None of his contingencies could adapt to this. Loki looked down at his hand. His nails had dug into the flesh of his palm so hard that there were crescent shaped clefts of blood. The wet red marks stood out in stark contrast to his ivory skin. He remembered..._

_Something was wrong._

* * *

§

* * *

"So am I going to see much of you on Asgard?" asked Sydney. Loki didn't respond, giving her bruises a questioning glance. "Don't ask," she said. He sat down next to her, the couch nearly tilting her towards his direction from his weight.

"_Why did you not heal yourself?_" he asked, knowing full well that one of the perks for being a witch of the west was that water could heal almost any of her ailments. He was displeased to see that her translucent skin magnified the dark circles under her eyes.

"_Worried that I'll embarrass you and your brother by looking like an incompetent warrior?_"

"No, I'll be sure to keep my distance," he replied in a haughty voice. "_You're a water elemental; you could have easily healed yourself._"

"_I... She kept hitting and kicking._" Sydney's eyes flicked over to Natasha. "_I was hoping to elicit her sympathy. Get her to stop._"

"_A foolish strategy that didn't work._"

Sydney cringed. "_Oh, really? You think?_" His eyes narrowed. It seemed he didn't appreciate the sarcasm. "Will you be there for much of the wedding?" She had heard that he spent him time in prison while he and his brother returned to Asgard.

"Why do you ask?"

"Well, I was trying to plan ahead, because I wanted to make sure I had someone to talk to."

"You will find little intellectual stimulation in the realm," he snorted and then gave her a sly smile. "_Though I'm sure you will easily find some dimwitted fool interested in keeping you _otherwise_ entertained._"

"_Like you haven't looked at me the same way. Don't be crude if you feel that others are beneath you when they do so._"

"_True. You are fair of face and form, but it is boorish of me to stare admiringly at someone so far beneath my station in life."_

For a moment, Sydney didn't respond. Then, a glass of ice water on the coffee table started boiling. She realized how incensed she was at his words and got up, wanting to leave before others noticed her lapse in control again.

"Stop," he commanded in a regal voice. "_Please wait and let me explain further._"

"_Why bother explaining to someone so far beneath you?_" she asked. "No, I think I'll find Tony and Bruce." He gave her a beleaguered look, but she wasn't affected. "_You... You are as loathsome as a toad... mucilaginous and venomous!_" By the goddess, she sucked when it came to effectively scathing comebacks.

"I see," he replied calmly.

The lack of response on his part only pissed Sydney off more. "_That was an insult, in case you are having difficulties figuring it out._"

"_Lady, I quite understood; however, you did not. Though those were my words, I did mean to imply you are beneath my station. The truth is that _I_ have no rank or standing, as_ _I am the monster parents tell their children about at night._" He reached for her wrist. "Stay." It was a request this time, not a command.

Sydney noticed Steve watching them with concern, his focus on Loki's hand.

Surely there was a limit on how many second chances one could give another. Though, she could play nice... for _Jane's_ sake. Sydney nearly laughed out loud at her own attempt to hoodwink herself. The truth was that the fraction of the time that she enjoyed Loki's company more than made up for the majority of the time that she wanted to throw things at him. "Okay," she decided. Loki dropped her wrist, but Steve was still watching them. "I'm going to refresh my drink first." She grabbed the still hot glass by the rim at the top. "I'll be right back."

The subdued god of lies watched her leave, then turned his attention to the overly protective soldier. The mortal gave him a look of warning before turning away. It mattered little what the do-gooder thought, for the only opinion that mattered was Sydney's._ Mucilaginous_, Loki chuckled to himself. He had underestimated the seductive power of decent vocabulary... though it wasn't her lexicon that turned him on.

* * *

§

* * *

[47] **Oh, _Sleepy Hallow_, how I love thee... and Tom Mison.**


	29. There's no place like home

**Author's Note**

**Beloved readers, if any of you currently are not also reading my multi-chapter Harry Potter story, I would really appreciate your feedback on something. I wrote a very short fairytale called _The Goblin Mirror_, please check it out. I'm only asking this from those who aren't reading my HP fic, because (spoiler alert) Hermione will later read that fairytale and use it for clues_._**

**Sections entirely in _italics_ denote flashbacks. Dialogue in both "_italics and quotations_" denote telepathic conversations. Numbers in [brackets] denote footnotes, which you can find at the bottom of the chapter. Nothing from the Marvel universe is mine.**

**~ Refictionista, April 8, 2015**

* * *

§ **Chapter XXVIII **§  
there's no place like home

* * *

_Sydney woke up in the wee hours of the morning for the second day in a row, and with her insomnia came the worries._ _It was dark, but flashes of light sporadically pierced through the rain blurred window as lightning struck nearby. She was a big girl now, almost twelve after all, and so the thunder no longer frightened her._

_Big girls understood that bigger issues took precedence over irrational fears about sonic shock waves that resulted after the rapid expansion of the air caused by a bolt of lightning._

_Her troubles centered on one thing. That her stepmother hadn't told her father about the stolen photograph yet, but Sydney _knew_ that Katrina would tell. It was only a matter of time, and her father was going to be_ mad_ when he finally found out_. Probably this weekend, because Daddy gets home too late during the week_, she thought._ _There wasn't going to be a way to argue out of this mess... All because Katrina didn't like dishonesty, a trait that somehow had _not_ been passed on to Sydney's stepsisters. Dru's open nastiness and Anna's sickly sweet manipulations must have come from their biological father, because Beth was just fine._

_Beth..._

_"I know you're there," said Sydney._

_A tiny face surrounded by a halo of yellow curls peeped over the edge of Sydney's bed. Even in the dark, she could see that her younger half-sister's eye were wide in surprise._

_"How did you know? I was _super_ quiet this time."_

_Sydney sat up. "No, you weren't. If you want to be sneaky, then you shouldn't drag Frankie behind you." She pointed to the plush pug, currently wearing a black jacket and bow tie._[48]_ "What are you doing awake?"_

_Beth stood up and whispered, "I knew you were sad, so I came to keep you company." _

_Sydney held up the sheet and blanket so Beth could crawl under the covers to join her. "Why did you think I was sad?" the older girl asked. She suspected this was merely an excuse to cover up the little girl's fears about the thunder, but she would play along. Another clap of thunder seemed to confirm her suspicions as Beth scurried to get under the covers faster._

_"When you get sad, it rains," said Beth after a moment, in all the seriousness that a four-year-old could manage._

_Laughing, Sydney gave her a kiss on the forehead. "Lots of people get sad when it rains."_

_"No," said Beth stubbornly. "It rains because you're sad, Sydney." Beth snuggled up and pulled her toy dog to a safe spot between them. "Why are you sad?"_

Not 'are' you sad, but 'why' are you sad_, thought Sydney._

_She sighed. "Because Daddy's going to be mad again at me," Sydney finally said._

_"Say you're sorry," said Beth._

_"I can't."_

_"Why?"_

_"Because... I'm not."_

_"Oh... Uh oh." Beth stretched her short arms around the stuffed pug to hug Sydney. Beth knew that Daddy spanked Sydney when he was really mad, and that always happened when Sydney said she wasn't sorry. Dru and Anna were never spanked or sent to their rooms without supper, because somehow they never got in trouble. Daddy ignored them when they came over every other weekend and during the summer, and Mama went to take a nap whenever they were naughty. It didn't make sense to Beth, since Dru was meaner than any of the boys at school and Anna only pretended to be nice. Daddy never spanked her, and Mama would_ never_ let Beth leave the table without finishing her vegetables_.

_"Beth," Sydney began, "do you remember when we talked about how I'm about to finish high school?"_

_"Yes."_

_"You know that means I go to college next, right? That I go away to a big school?"_

_"No. Dru said that you're not allowed to go because too young to leave."_

_"What if I decided to go away?"_

_"You would get in trouble. Oh... is that why Daddy will be mad?"_

_"Sort of." It wasn't the truth, but Sydney wasn't going to lie either._

_"Can I come too?" asked Beth with a yawn. Sydney realized how tired Beth was, because otherwise the little girl would be putting up more of a fuss._

_"No, but maybe I could back once in a while to visit."_

_"I'd like it better if you stay home."_

_"I know." Sydney kissed Beth's forehead again. "I love you, Beth-Breath. Go to sleep."_

_"I love you too, Syd-Squid." Beth smiled dreamily and snuggled down once again. Within minutes, little rhythmic sighs told Sydney that she was already fast asleep._

_Sydney started crying. Beth was the one thing keeping her from leaving these past two days. She had packed her things days ago and had been practicing riding one of her father's smaller motorbikes. She could do this. She had to stop crying. Little children cried, not her._

_It was time to leave home. She kissed Beth's forehead again_.

* * *

§

* * *

It began with a rumor.

The previous week, Carla Warren had been hired as their new lab assistant. She was a green girl straight out of college and eager to befriend Sydney; however, she kept calling Sydney _ma'am_.

Sydney asked Carla to please just call her by either her title or given name not, _shudder_, ma'am. This was a mistake, for it meant that her assistant now thought that they were 'bestest' friends. Apparently, a relationship on this level consisted of mainly one thing... gossip.

Carla had heard during lunch yesterday from their department admin, Karen _Something-or-Another_, who happened to share an apartment with her S.H.I.E.L.D. employee fiancée, Malcolm Truss. Not only did Carla think Karen's fiancée was "dreamy" but it seemed he was also drinking buddies with Margret's military counterpart, Paul Kreah. Apparently, Paul was _not_ "dreamy" but Karen had somehow managed to convince Carla to go on a blind date with him. Anyway, Paul's brother Bruno also worked at S.H.I.E.L.D. as a low-level engineer specializing in surveillance equipment, so Carla was certain that the tantalizing bit of information she was about to share was the real deal.

_Seriously?_ thought Sydney. _Has no one ever heard that loose lips sink ships_. Comparing S.H.I.E.L.D. to a high school grapevine was equally as disturbing... vetted employees with tiered security clearances should know better. At the same time, she had seen firsthand how individuals with extraordinary gifts consistently bent the rules. _I shouldn't be shocked_, she reasoned.

She thought that also should know the last name of their department admin. It was only polite. Karen did always smile kindly when Sydney would ask her for help with navigating the latest and therefore unfamiliar incarnation of Microsoft Word and Excel. Being a genius didn't seem like much when a couple of decades in a freezer meant you had a giant learning curve is the most basic and widely used software.

_Dear goddess,_ thought Sydney,_ Caryn is still talking. I'm never going to get this work done before I leave._

Trying to come up with a way to extract herself from the one-sided conversation of meaningless gossip and get back to her experiment, Sydney suddenly felt chills as she caught the tail end of the rumor her lab assistant had been repeating.

"... which is just fine with me, I guess. I just wish there would be pictures. You know, I-"

"What did you just say?" interrupted Sydney.

Carla blinked. "Oh, you know... photos. I mean, seriously. Have you seen the artistry on their armor? Just imagine what the scenery-"

"No," said Sydney throwing up a hand, "about the iPod."

Sydney half listened to Carla's response as stared at Darcy's iPod. She wondered what could have happened if she hadn't taken it out of her bag as she had rummaged around for her calculator. Carla would have never seen it, never asked about it... never told her what S.H.I.E.L.D. had done.

Sweet, innocent Darcy had decorated it with red glittery swirls. It reminded Sydney of the magic a witch of the east would use, she ran a finger along the sparkling ridges. _Was this even Darcy's iPod? _wondered Sydney. It was so hard to get residual auras from technology.

Now barely listening as Carla switched topics and babbled on to another subject, she remembered how Jane had taken it from Darcy's room and then gave it to Sydney yesterday. "_Wouldn't it be a great surprise if we could get someone to put Asgardian music on it? I asked Thor if he knew how, but he said Loki might be able to figure it out. Could you ask him?_" Jane had asked. Sydney had agreed it was a great idea. They had both worried how Darcy would react after waking from her coma, because she _was going_ to wake up. The spunky intern would be devastated when she discovered she had missed Jane's wedding. Bringing her some music from another realm sounded like a wonderful present.

Now Sydney wasn't so sure.

It would be time to leave soon; Sydney didn't know how to deal with this. Thor was going to take them to Asgard tomorrow. She traced the glittery swirls decorating the iPod with her fingertip again. She needed to talk to someone she could trust.

Cutting Carla off, Sydney waved goodbye. "I have to go," she said over her shoulder as she made her way to the exit.

* * *

§

* * *

Angrboða waved a manicured hand over the silver basin. The shallow depth of the basin's contents impossibly reflected a dark green light. The watery substance rippled beneath her hand and then swirled away into the void.

_So the Golden Prince returns with a new bride._

That could be useful. The rest of what she saw was... unexpected.

She stared down at the empty basin, admiring its ornately carved edges. Her cherished portal was merely an instrument of prophecy, and so it worked in unpredictable ways. Angrboða knew too well how that distinction was potentially deceptive.

Hela was living proof of that.

_My daughter..._

Thanos wanted the Eye of Providence, her _birthright_. She scowled. There was no question, she would give the Mad Titan what he asked. She could.. Nay, she must be satisfied with merely ruling her own realm. It wouldn't be too hard to convince herself that, especially if the realm was Asgard.

Still, this meant her ambitions were now greatly diminished.

_Centuries of plotting... gone to waste!_

The visions from the basin were either from the present or the future. The portal of shallow quicksilver could show things that were, and it could do so quite clearly. However, what she had seen wasn't from times gone by, of that Angrboða was quite certain. Therefore, the basin had either showed her either things that _are_ or things that _may_ be.[49]

Seeing the future was tricky, even for a powerful sorceress like herself. She had studied divination for over a thousand years, and still she struggled with certainty. As she always would... for even the wisest could not always see the truth of the prophetic visions.

_Possessing the Infinity Gauntlet would have made it clear._

She had never hated Thanos more.

As to the visions...

If she had seen the present, then her daughter might prove useful. She smiled cruelly, thankful for degrading herself to create progeny. Angrboða ran a hand over her smooth, concave stomach. She would remain forever grateful that breeding hadn't marred her alluring figure.

If she had seen the future, then the vision was either what _would_ be or what _might _be. Either way, perhaps a trip to the Nine Realms was in order. She stood and gathered her cloak.

Perhaps it was time to go home.

* * *

§

* * *

[48] **Yes, I know that Frank the Pug from _Men in Black II _(hopefully you recognized those lines in this scene) wore a necktie and not a bow tie. But, Frank should have... that widdle puppy would have been so much cuter that way.**

[49]** Well spotted, that was indeed a Mirror of Galadriel reference.**


	30. Welcome to Asgard

**Author's Note**

**Sections entirely in ****_italics_**** denote flashbacks. Dialogue in both "****_italics and quotations_****" denote telepathic conversations. Numbers in [brackets] denote footnotes, which you can find at the bottom of the chapter. Nothing from the Marvel universe is mine.**

**~ Refictionista, January 8, 2016  
**

* * *

§ **Chapter XXIX **§  
welcome to Asgard

* * *

The roaring in Sydney's ears was deafening. She tried to keep her eyes open, but the bright flashes of lights that kept zooming past were making her feel sick.

_Stars, maybe? No, that wouldn't explain the rainbow spectrum of colors flying by them. Radiation pulses generated by being squeezed through an __Einstein-Rosen bridge? Perhaps.  
_

She would have to ask Jane. Or Loki. Sydney looked over to see how they were doing and immediately regretted the action. She was definitely going to throw up all over the...

She was suddenly falling forward, face first, onto an ornate golden floor. She felt a hand from behind grip her forcefully by the waist, and she was jerked back upright.

"Do try to be careful," said Loki, who released her after she had steadied herself.

"We have to do that again!" Jane exclaimed. Thor and Loki laughed while Sydney held a hand to her mouth in an attempt to control the nausea.

Sydney opened her eyes and conjured a glass of water to help settle her stomach, taking tiny sips while her eyes were closed.

Jane was fascinated by the observatory, but when she spun around and faced Heimdall, she faltered.

"Hi," she said meekly.

"Welcome to Asgard," replied the giant warrior in golden armor. He removed his great sword rom the control panel and stepped down from the platform. "Greetings, I am Heimdall, Gatekeeper of Asgard and Master of the Bifrost Bridge."

"Jane Foster, particle physicist," Jane said, holding out her hand. Heimdall stared at her oddly before Jane put her hand down.

"Come, my intended," said Thor loudly, "we must not tarry." Jane took his arm and the two swept outside.

Heimdall turned his golden-eyed gaze down to Sydney, who was looking at him curiously.

"Sydney Ber... No, wait. My name is Sydney Gavindóttir," said Sydney, "thank you for bringing us here safely."

Heimdall crossed his arms and peered down at her. "You are aware of Asgard's use of patronymic surnames."

"I guessed," said Sydney.

"How is it that you commanded your own refreshment?" he asked.

"I'm sorry, but I don't know what you're asking."

"Your drink, lady. It appeared at your will."

Sydney blinked and looked down at the glass in her hand. She blinked again.

"_I don't know how I did that_," she whispered quietly to Loki's mind.

"This is not a human trait," said Heimdall. His brow creased and he looked between Sydney and Loki with mild suspicion.

"The lady is no ordinary Midgardian," said Loki.

"_Loki, I'm serious. I don't know how I did that._"

"Perhaps her magic is stronger in our realm," Loki drawled, acting bored.

"_You know that's not possible. If anything, my magic should be weaker here."_

"_Silence._"

"_I haven't said anything out loud._"

"_And you shan't if you know what is best for you._"

Heimdall tilted his head slightly. "As she is a guest of the All-father, she will be allowed through. Know this, Sydney Gavindóttir, I will be watching you."

Sydney nodded in return. "I understand. Good day then, Heimdall."

"Good day."

"Good day to you too, Sydney," said Loki. "You should hurry to catch up with Thor and Jane before they want to leave."

"You're not coming?"

"No, I have other... matters to attend to."

"Oh," said Sydney, noticing how Heimdall's jaw twitched almost unperceivably.

* * *

_"What is this?" asked Sydney._

_Natasha looked up as Sydney threw something down on the coffee table._

_"Looks like an iPod," said Natasha._

_"It does, doesn't it?" Sydney asked sarcastically._

_"What are you asking?"_

_"I guess I already have my answer." Sydney turned to leave and started walking away.  
_

_"Aren't you forgetting something," Natasha called out, holding the iPod._

_Sydney stopped and turned around, give Natasha a hard look. "No."_

_Natasha glared back at Sydney._

_"Take. The. iPod."_

_"When a woman says _no_, she means no," snarled Sydney. You'll just have to find someone else to smuggle your surveillance off the planet."_

_"Thor already agreed to to take the iPod and get some Asgardian music for Darcy."_

_"Then have Jane or Thor carry it."_

_"If we continue to be insistent, then they might find that suspicious."_

_"Oh, and you thought I somehow wouldn't?"_

_"We had plans to see if you would agree. Regardless, the device functions on a passive level."_

_"Did you seriously just admit that this is spy equipment?"_

_"You don't have to agree with our methods, just carry the damn iPod with you when you go."_

_Sydney held out her hand, and Natasha gave her the phone. Sydney stared at it for a second, then the screen went dark. She handed it back to Natasha.  
_

_"LCD screen. The L stands for liquid."_

_"What did you do?"_

_"Froze it."_

_"Damn it, Sydney."_

_Sydney shrugged. "I said no." She stood and left the room, turning her back on the underhanded spying of their allies._

* * *

Heimdall turned his back and placed his great sword back in the center console. A swirling vortex appeared once again, and a raiding party came through. The warriors were carrying a troll tied by its hands and feet to a bar like a pig on a spit.

"Make way," shouted one of the Asgardian soldiers, "We have captured a prisoner for interrogation."

Jane screamed, cowering in Thor's arms.

"How… what… that.. creature! What is it?"

"Merely a troll. Don't be afraid, my beloved," consoled Thor, as the creature growled, foaming at the mouth as it struggled against its bindings. "They are taking it to the dungeons beneath the palace. Nothing escapes from those prison cells; you will be safe."

Sydney turned to Loki. "Is it normal to see creatures like that?" she asked.

"Within this realm, evil hath many faces," replied Loki pointedly.

Sydney wondered if he was thinking of the troll… or himself. She remembered how he had called himself a monster.

"_Not you_," she whispered softly into his mind.

"_Even me_." Loki looked down at the ground. "Go now, join Jane and Thor."

"Can I visit you later?"

"As I stated earlier, there is somewhere else I belong, and it is not in the palace."

"But Thor just said the prison was beneath the palace, I thought that was where you went-"

"Speak not of what you don't understand," snapped Loki.

Sydney tried to apologize, but Loki had already stalked off towards two guards on the other side of the observatory. He left without sparing her a backwards glance. She sighed and headed to the open carriage that Thor was helping Jane climb into.

Heimdall, who saw all, wondered how much Sydney could see.

* * *

§

* * *

[50] **I changed the story to a tantalizing excerpt from my story. Thanks to user EchoSerenade for the advice. Below is the poem that has served as my summary for so long. _I just couldn't bear to let it go_.  
**

A witch. A god of mischief.  
A loving mother. A hopeful brother.  
An a-hole father. A director who would rather not bother.  
A soldier out of time. An assassin who committed horrendous crimes.  
An archer. A man who turns into something darker.  
A genius playboy billionaire in a suit. An agent who is rather cute.  
An assistant turned CEO. A warrior maiden who packs quite the smiting blow.


End file.
